Sometimes falling is the best part
by anotherreasonwhynot
Summary: Boy meets girl who has a friend who's in love with the girl. Tuck/OC. Rated M for language and possible smut. My first shot at fanfic in years, please read and review! And for the female readers: the idea is that you are Emma :)
1. Chapter 1

You can only hear two things, your own panting and your throbbing heart. As they both begin to settle, you can hear the breathing of the man lying next to you, his breathing taking more time to calm down than yours. After all, he'd done most of the work.

He sits up slightly, leaning his back on your headboard.

"That was nice," he says, reaching for your glass of whisky on the nightstand. He'd commented on your drinking when you'd opened the door for him with the glass in your hand, stating something in the lines of "it's not even noon yet", which made it even more irritable that he drank out of the glass you'd poured for yourself.

You don't give him a response, your first instinct being to ask him to leave, and you don't want to be rude. He slowly gulps at the amber liquid while you pull the covers over your naked body.

"You ready for another round?" he asks turning his head, smiling.

"Um…" you start, getting up and wrapping the sheet around you. "Actually I should start getting ready. I have that wedding to go to today, remember? Melissa and Sean."

"Oh, right. I'll get out of your way then." he says, placing the glass back on the nightstand and standing up. You stand on the other side of the bed, trying to look like something on your dresser needs all of your attention, because you don't want to watch him pick up his neatly folded pile of clothes from the floor and put them on. As you hear him zip up his sweater, the first thing he always takes off and the last thing he puts back on, you turn to face him.

He walks over to you and stops right in front of you, his face inches from yours. "Thanks again, doll." he smiles, that smile that first drew you to him, now making you slightly uncomfortable. He places a kiss on your cheek, and you give him a weak smile.

"Hey, something wrong?" he asks, his eyes suddenly slightly worried, his brows furrowed.

"I'm just tired of weddings, is all. I'm good. Thanks." you reply making more of an effort to smile, knowing that you weren't exactly lying, even if it wasn't the main reason for your distant behaviour.

"I know what you mean. Do you want me to come with you? I mean, apart from Melissa I don't really know the people there, but I'll do it if you ask me to," he smiles, with his thumb tracing your jaw line. Your head drops slightly and you chuckle. He can be so sweet. You raise your eyes to his and smile.

"I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, then they'd ask about us and that would open up a whole can of worms."

"True. I'll see you around then," he smiles, pressing his lips softly on your forehead. You don't like it when he does that, you feel that kisses on the forehead are so intimate, but he doesn't know it. You smile and he backs away from you, and through the doorframe of your bedroom you can see him walk all the way to your front door.

"And hey," he calls when he's opened the door, "if you need a little pick-me-up after the wedding, you know where to find me," he says and winks.

"Bye, Carter," you smile, willing him to close the door behind him already.


	2. Chapter 2

Driving to the wedding reception your mind lingers on Carter. When you moved to LA a year ago and started at your new job, he was the one to take you under his wing. When you first met him, you'd thought he was cute with his sand-coloured hair and blue eyes. He'd shown you around town, introduced you to people, helped you whenever you needed it. A month into knowing him you'd ended up in his bed, drunk, because of his stupid, charming smile and how incredibly there-for-you he was. The following morning he'd confessed that he liked you, to which your response was to throw up. You still wasn't sure whether it was because of the hangover or his words. You still blush at the memory.

You had told him that you didn't feel that way about him, but that you wanted to stay friends. He'd agreed to this, but you knew he still carried a torch for you, after all this time. He's since switched jobs, so you weren't working together anymore.

You didn't really know how you'd ended up being friends with benefits, more benefits for him though. You usually only called him when you were drunk and lonely, but he didn't seem to mind, which made you hate yourself. You know you should just break it off, for his sake. You keep reminding yourself that he deserves someone who returns his feelings and is as awesome to him as he is to you, but then you see how his face lights up when he sees you, how excitedly he takes your call, that you just can't bring yourself to do it.

You drive up to a big white house, noticing that the wedding party is already in full swing. Of course it is, you are late, you remind yourself, finding a parking spot for your Volkswagen and pulling up. You grab the white envelope holding the gift certificate – you and Melissa's colleagues had gotten them an all expenses paid weekend at a spa – from the passenger seat along with your clutch, and you head for the backyard.

Walking up you notice it's a big wedding, there must be almost twenty tables arranged around a designated dancing area. Everywhere there is white and lavender. You stop in your tracks, trying to find where you could drop off your gift, when you notice an elegantly dressed elderly woman walking up to you across the lawn.

"Oh hello dear, I don't think we have met," she smiles warmly to you offering her hand to shake yours.

"No, but I bet you are Sean's grandmother," you smile back. "I'm Melissa's friend, Emma."

"Hello Emma, it's nice to meet you." she smiles, offering to take the envelope. You place it in her hands.

"So nice to meet you, too. You have a lovely house," you compliment. As the woman takes you by the arm and starts leading you across the lawn, you scan the crowd while she tells you about the house. You are thankful for her presence; weddings are your personal hell. All the happiness and a lot of people of which you know a tenth if you're lucky, and even then more often than not they are people who you are related to and don't want to see anyway. You liked Melissa and Sean perfectly fine – she was actually one of your closest friends – and by now you liked Sean's granny, but coming to these things alone was your idea of torture.

Much to your liking, you are lead straight to the happy couple.

"Emma! I'm married!" Melissa squeals as she sees you, her other hand clutching onto a glass of champagne and the other grabbing a fistful of her dress so she can run over to you.

You hold out your arms so that she can run into the hug she's obviously planning. "Congratulations, Mel!" you laugh into her veil as she all but spills her drink on your back as she hugs you enthusiastically. "I'm really sorry I wasn't at the ceremony, I would've loved to have seen it," you respond as the both of you pull away from the hug.

"Don't worry, Sean's cousin got it all on tape," Melissa chirps, as Sean walks over to the pair of you. "I hope. If he didn't I might kill him," she continues, as her new husband wraps his arms around her waist.

"Oops, what have I potentially forgotten to do now?" he laughs as he breaks one hand free to squeeze yours. You smile and mouth "congrats" to him so as not to interrupt their banter as Melissa turns her head towards him.

"Not you, FDR," she smiles.

"Oh, well him you can kill," Sean smiles into her hair, and she chuckles. You can't help but think how lucky these two are, it's almost disgusting if it wasn't so sweet. A woman comes by with a tray of champagne flutes. You take one, which you down in one go.

"Wow, rough day?" Melissa asks, as she reaches for the tray and replaces your empty glass with a full one.

"Try rough month," you respond. "But no more of that now, this is your day," you smile at the pair.

"Let's find your table," Melissa urges and locks arms with you. You feel kind of bad that all these people have to take the time to escort you around, but then again, you know next to no one at the party.

"Okay so we thought that seeing as you don't really know the people here, we'd sit you with some of our other friends, because let's face it, our relatives are boring," she whispers the last part into your ear, and you swear that in your peripheral vision you see the head of a middle aged woman next to you turn at the comment, and you try to keep a straight face.

"FDR, whom I already mentioned, is related to Sean, but his fiancée Lauren is really nice. Tuck is essentially FDR's best friend but we've gotten to know him quite well so we invited him too, he's the one with the accent," she explains as she gives various people smiles along the walk. You try to keep everyone's names in mind as you approach a table with four people sitting around it. "And then there's Callie from Sean's work and her brother Greg," she states as you stop in front of the table. "Everyone," Melissa states to the group, stopping their conversations, "this is my good friend Emma." You smile and give a little wave, feeling like you're the new student in school and the teacher makes you stand up in front of everyone and the annoying boy in the back row throws a paper ball at you.

"Hi Emma, nice to meet you, I'm FDR," a tall, dark haired man stands up on your left hand side, winks and shakes your hand. Usually overly flirty men annoy you, but he is over the top gorgeous, in your opinion too good looking, that for a second you are taken aback by his amazingly blue eyes. You regain your composure, however, and smile, "Hi, you too." Your gaze shifts to the man sitting next to FDR. He has light brown, quite short hair and an attractive smirk on his full lips at which you find yourself involuntarily staring for a moment when from your right a hand appears.

"I'm Greg. Why don't you sit here next to me," a tall man with black hair, to whom the hand belongs, says.

"Hi, Greg. Sure, thanks," you reply, slightly uncomfortable with the look in his eyes. You take the seat offered to you and as you look up you notice the man sitting next to FDR eyeing you while he leans back in his chair. When you catch him looking, he smiles and turn his gaze to Melissa.

"Ya'll take good care of her now," Melissa tells the group as she leans down to hug you.

"We will," FDR and Greg say almost in unison. Melissa chuckles next to your ear and promises to catch up with you later, before turning to leave. You turn your face back towards the people at the table when a cold hand is placed on your arm.

"I'm Callie," a pretty blond sitting between Greg and the mystery man states, with a smirk on her face. You wait a second for her to add something to her statement, anything, but she doesn't.

"Hi Callie. Melissa tells me you and Greg are sister and brother," you say, offering her a smile, to which she doesn't respond.

"Yes, but don't hold that against me," Greg chirps in smiling. Turning your face towards Melissa's retreating back you fake a laugh, which sounds fake even to your ears, wondering how soon you can leave without hurting the happy couple's feelings. You think you hear someone chuckle under their breath at your laugh. At the corner of your eye you see the man, who has yet to introduce himself, lean in.

"Nice to meet you, sweetheart. I'm Tuck," he says, and your heart skips a beat at his accent and all around mannerism; he sounds distinctly English. British accents have always been your soft spot, ever since you visited London for the first time. He holds out his hand for you to shake, smiling with his eyes, which makes you a bit uneasy in a good way.

"Nice to meet you too. From England, I presume?" you ask as you shake his warm hand. He nods, holding your hand a fraction of a second longer than customary.

"What are doing so far away from home?" you ask as he releases your hand. You both remain in your position, leaning in towards each other. His smile creeps down to his lips and he opens his mouth to respond, when you see Greg's head block your vision of Tuck.

"Oh, he's got a kid here, the usual. So, how do you know Melissa?" Greg asks, a smile forming on his lips. You bite your lip and manage a smile.

"We work together."

"Oh, so you work at the bookstore too," Tuck chimes in smiling, and you just want to ask him to say something more. He could read you the phonebook for all you cared.

"Yeah, for about a year now," you respond, ignoring Greg who is already saying something which probably in his head sounded really good. You however have no idea what he is going on about because you notice Tuck gazing at you intently. You will yourself to stare back when you realise just how gorgeous he is. He looks like he is trouble, guys with that kind of eyes usually are. There is something about his demeanour though, a softness that disrupts the whole bad boy image.

"Don't you think, Emma?" you hear as you are elbowed on your right arm by Greg, pulling you from your staring competition.

"What? Yeah, sure," you respond.

"Shall we then?" he continues, offering you his hand.

"What?" you ask, slightly shocked.

"Dance. You just said this was a great song," he smiles, standing up and still holding his hand in front of your face. You let out a little sigh, to which you think you can again hear the small chuckle, but this time you realise it is coming from Tuck. You send him a glare as you reluctantly stand up and take Greg's hand so he can lead you to the area in the middle of the tables.

You thank heavens that the song you "liked" without knowing it is a fast paced one. You look at Greg as he's grooving in front of you, and realise that he is actually quite easy on the eyes. He's tall, not skinny but not robust either, and he has soft features and slightly wavy black hair, which makes you wonder which one of the siblings is hiding their natural colour, or if both are. Greg hadn't done anything cross, he'd actually been nice. If only he wasn't so overly enthusiastic, you might consider him less annoying.

As you move your hips to the song your gaze travels sideways to your table. Tuck is looking at you again. You notice Callie placing her hand on his arm, saying something into his ear while with her other hand stroking his neck softly. He smiles at her briefly but doesn't say anything, and brings his eyes back to you. You try to hide how pleased you are, instead putting a little extra effort into your dance as you know he is watching. Greg, unfortunately, gets the wrong idea.

"Wow, you are really getting into this," he breathes into your ear as he goes to wrap an arm around your waist. You try to get away from his grip by taking a step back when you bump into someone.

"Oh my God, I'm really sorry -" you start, turning around to see who you have almost knocked over when you see a familiar face.

"Emma! What are you doing here?!" your childhood friend Lauren squeals. The petite blonde wraps you into a hug.

"What are _you_ doing here?" you respond and you can't stop smiling. "Oh I've missed you so much!" as you step back to look at her.

"I've missed you too! Wow, I can't believe you're here! Come sit at my table," she smiles and drags you with her, leaving dumbfounded Greg to jiggle on his own.

"Honey, this is Emma. We've known each other since we were five," Lauren chirps as she plops down on the seat next to FDR and motions for you to sit next to her, which you do.

"Oh she's _that _Emma!" FDR replies. "We actually met already, Melissa introduced us."

"How funny though that you're here! Do you live in LA now?" Lauren smiles at you.

And with that you're off. You and Lauren had gone through school together in Georgia and had remained friends until she moved. You remember how sad you were when she left for LA to be with a guy. She gives you her story, how she'd met FDR at the video store (at which you wonder why you never meet a guy like FDR at the video store) and how they are now crazy in love and planning their wedding, to which she invites you. Every now and then you notice Tuck stealing glances your way, while conversing with Callie. He seems to be paying more attention to your conversation with Lauren than his own.

"So what's your deal, are you seeing anyone special?" Lauren asks with a friendly face. Coming from any other person you'd be offended at the question most feared by all single people. But Lauren was so sincere. From the corner of your eye you notice Tuck lean in slightly.

"Uhh, no, no one special," you respond smiling, feeling a slight nagging at the back of your brain because of Carter.

"Well, we'll just have to fix that, shouldn't be a problem with you looking like that," Lauren smiles and winks, turning to FDR.

"You know any nice single men worthy of my good friend?"

"Well," FDR leans in with his arm resting on the back support of Lauren's chair. "I do know one."

"Yeah I really don't need to be fixed up. But thanks," you respond with a small chuckle, taking a sip of champagne.

"You don't even want to know about him?" Lauren asks.

"I seriously appreciate your concern, but no. If you'll excuse me for a minute," you smile and stand up, starting to make your way towards the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: this is again a little on the short side, but bear with me. This one goes to Dopamine07, you made my day :)**

You splash your neck and face with cold water and dap it dry, pausing to look at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You have left you hair down but you wonder if you should pin it up. You've been told you have a beautiful neck. Would Tuck like it?

You are immediately mentally kicking yourself. What does it matter if he likes it? He has a child, therefore he's probably married, or at the least there is a woman in his life. Or a man. Men that beautiful aren't usually straight and single, you've come to notice. All this doesn't seem to be bothering Callie though. Or maybe it's Callie he's with, in which case he's a complete jackass for staring at you all the time.

You pinch yourself. You shouldn't be thinking this about the guy, after all, all you know about him is that he's FDR's best friend, who has a kid.

Straightening your dress you promise yourself that you've been at the wedding long enough and can leave, and you walk out of the bathroom.

The bathroom is upstairs, and as you are making your way down the stairs you notice Tuck climbing them up. You meet halfway. He smiles at you.

"Isn't it horrible when people who are in a relationship think it is their duty to pair up all their single friends?" he smiles, leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets. You hear yourself laugh.

"It's with good intentions, I suppose. And what would you know, anyway," you cross your arms over your chest, but giving him a friendly smile.

"What do you mean?" he asks, tilting his head with a confused, yet pleasant look on his face.

"Well, I... you're married, right?" you stutter, noticing as he rubs his jaw with his left hand that there is no ring on his finger.

"Uhh, no. I'm not. I was though, a while back. But I'm not anymore," he rambles, slightly uncomfortable.

"So that's a no then?" you smile, and he looks immediately less tense and gives you a smile back.

"So umm, we didn't really get a chance to talk at the table," he states, looking at you from under his lashes. Geez, how can this man be so beautiful, you think.

"No, we didn't," you respond, moving your arms to grab onto the railing on which you are leaning. He pushes himself upright and takes a step closer, all the while looking into your eyes. There is still a whole foot between the two of you, but you think you can feel the heat pulsating off of his body.

"You think we might -"

"Tuck!"

You both look down the stairs, at the bottom of which Callie is standing with a hand on her hip, looking annoyed.

"Yes?" he asks, looking as pleasant as ever but sounding slightly exasperated.

"Dance with me," she responds. It's not a question, and she emphasises it by raising her other hand, making a "come here" gesture with her index finger. All your energy goes into keeping a straight face instead of dropping your jaw through the floor at her nerve.

"Sorry, Callie, but we're kind of in the middle of something here," he responds, and you see he is uncomfortable with the situation.

"But it's my favourite soo-o-oong," she pleads like a child. Tuck turns towards you and mouths "I'm sorry". You shake your head to indicate that it's nothing, even though you are fuming at Callie.

"Let's go then," Tuck says, descending the stairs. Callie sends a triumphant smile your way before locking arms with Tuck. They disappear through the door into the crowd and you are left wondering if he was really going to ask you out.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: so this one's a bit longer again. This chapter goes out to Schuneko, thanks for your kind words :)**

Soon after your encounter on the stairs you left the wedding. You had contemplated on saying something to Tuck, but seeing as Callie was all over him you decided you didn't want her wrath on you, so you left it at that. You said your goodbyes, told Greg you didn't have a phone as the reason you couldn't give him your number, and left.

A couple of days later

Driving home from work your cell phone rings. You look at the caller ID.

"Hey Lauren, what's up?" you answer. You had changed numbers at the wedding, and you were really happy to be keeping in touch with her again.

"Hey Emma! I was just calling to see if you were doing anything special this Saturday," she inquires.

"No, nothing special. What did you have in mind?" you ask.

"Sorry to have kind of blindsided you but I need you for manual labour," she laughs apologetically. You chuckle.

"Walked right into that one, didn't I? What kind of manual labour?" you smile as you pull up in front of your home. You live in a one bedroom apartment which your parents thought was too dingy for you, but you like it: it's not that far from work, it's relatively cheap, and it has everything you need.

"So we're moving FDR's stuff in on Sunday, but first I thought we'd do some renovations, so my place becomes more like our place," she explains.

"So it's like painting and stuff?" you ask, grabbing your bag and getting out of the car.

"Yeah, mostly painting and cleaning for us ladies."

"Sure, I'll be there. What time?" you agree, walking up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment complex.

"As early as you want, we'll start right after breakfast. And thanks in advance," she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

"Anytime," you smile. "I'll see you Saturday!" and with that you hang up.

On Saturday morning your alarm clock sounds at 8 o'clock. You blindly tap around in the vague area where your nightstand has usually been, not succeeding in finding the source of the annoying sound. Finally giving up you push yourself up on the bed on your elbows prying one eye open, and as you locate the alarm clock you throw it to the wall, falling back on the bed. Then you remember there was a reason for waking up this goddamn early on a Saturday, so you reluctantly force yourself to get up, muttering curses under your breath and make your way to your bathroom. After a long shower, a ton of coffee, a little makeup and breakfast (in that order) you start to feel that you are waking up. You've never really gotten those people who like to get things done before work, things like going to the gym. In your opinion they're all mad.

Looking through your closet you realise you have no idea what you should wear. Something that you don't use in public would be good, because after the painting everything will be ruined anyway. You are already pulling on a pair of old sweatpants when you look outside at people walking by who are obviously baking in the sun. You realise how hot it is, and instead opt for yellow hotpants and a black tank top. You pull your old Converse All Stars on and your long wavy hair into a loose bun. Throwing on your sunglasses you grab your bag and a bottle of water and you are out the door.

Much to your liking you find that it's only a short drive to Lauren's house, and you soon pull up in her driveway. They've already started: the front door is open and people, some of which you vaguely recognise from the wedding, are coming in and out, carrying various items. FDR greets you as you walk in, stating that he'll be leaving to go to his old apartment to help 'the guys' load up his stuff, but that you should find Lauren upstairs. You thank him and follow his directions, making your way to the second floor.

You find Lauren in her bedroom. She greets you and offers you a takeout cup of coffee, which you gratefully accept.

"So is this the room you want me to paint?" you ask as you sip away at your coffee. It's tepid, and you realise they might've expected you to turn up earlier. Lauren, however, says nothing about it but instead is as friendly as ever.

"Yeah. We chose this kind of grey paint, what do you think?" she asks, lifting the lid of one of the canisters in the corner.

"Oh that'll be great," you smile. You think the room looks nice as it is with the light yellow walls, but hey, it isn't your bedroom.

"So I'll just get cracking then," you say, reaching for the brushes.

"Okay, and thanks again. I'm just downstairs making room for FDR's horrible stuff, call me if you need anything," she smiles, gives your arm a little squeeze and leaves. You can tell she is so excited about moving in with FDR. You can't help the little pang of jealousy it causes you. Of course you are happy for your friend, but you haven't been in a relationship in a while, and random sex with Carter doesn't really count as intimacy. As you plop your iPod on top of your bag so that you can listen to music while you work, you try to shrug off your craving for a relationship and just be happy for Lauren and FDR.

An hour passes and you are starting to appreciate your skimpy choice of clothing. The massive windows of Lauren's bedroom – one wall is basically all glass – are letting all the sun in and you feel like you are in a steam room. You stop for a moment, placing the brush down and reaching for your water bottle. A few drops slip past your lips and onto your chest.

"Hot," a male voice says from the door. You turn your head and see Tuck, shirtless, leaning on the doorframe, looking at you with a little smirk on his face. He has a lot of tattoos, you notice. You hoped that he might be here, but you didn't even dream that he might be shirtless. Every thought you had about him that past week (and you had many) rushes into your head and suddenly you are at a loss for words.

"Excuse me?" you reply, taking another sip, thinking you may have misheard him. Or at least misunderstood.

"It's really hot today," he says, stepping into the room, putting his hands in his pockets. You smile, placing the cap back on the bottle. You look away, and when you look back you notice him giving you the once over. Now you are definitely appreciating the fact that you didn't wear the horrible saggy pants.

"I like your ink," you say, eyeing his arms and chest. You offer him your water bottle, which he accepts.

"Thanks. You got any?" he smirks, taking a sip of water. You reach for the paint brush again and start working.

"Maybe," you reply with a smile, your face to the wall, trying your hardest not to seem all too eager.

"You want to show me?" he asks, and you hear from where his voice is coming from that he has moved to stand right behind you. Suddenly you're having trouble breathing, and the hand that was previously moving the paint brush stops all together.

You drop the paint brush into the canister and turn around. Your arm brushes against his chest as you turn.

You lift your top and show him your left side, where the words "sometimes falling is the best part" are inked. He lifts his right hand and traces his fingers along the text, looking at it intently. As hot as the weather is, his touch sends a chill down your spine and you get goose bumps. He notices and chuckles.

"I like to think so too," he says with a low voice as you pull your top back down. You are standing right in front of each other. He leans in slightly, tilting his head to the side, briefly gazing at your lips. You feel your breathing become more intense. Then he offers you your water bottle and smiles. You chuckle grabbing the bottle and punch him playfully on the shoulder.

"I'll see you later," he smirks as he backs away from you all the while holding your gaze, and disappears.

It takes you a couple of hours more to finish the room, and it would've taken a lot longer had Lauren and her friend Trish not come in to help you. You like Trish, even though you think she's all sorts of crazy. When the room is done, Lauren calls everyone to the kitchen for pizza. You plan on making a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up.

"I'll be right there," you call back to Lauren, not looking where you're going when you bump into a chest. You're mortified, but seeing the tattoos in front of you you get a feeling in your stomach you hadn't felt in a while. Butterflies.

"You don't really watch where you go, do you?" Tuck smirks at you. He's only five or six inches taller than you, but his muscular build makes you feel small standing this close to him.

"You really should," he smiles, raising his hand to cup your face. Your eyes go wide as your breathing reacts to him immediately again. To your surprise he uses his thumb to wipe your cheek.

"Paint," he says smiling, showing you his now grey thumb. He removes his hand and stands to the side to let you pass. You smile at him and make your way to the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

You take your pizza slice to the patio, and you are pleased to see that Tuck follows you. To your dismay he has thrown on a red v-neck while you were in the bathroom. With a slice in one hand and a glass of water in the other you make your way to the edge of the patio, looking out at Lauren's green backyard. Sitting down criss-cross style you place the glass next to you.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asks, motioning the floor next to where you are seated.

"It's a free country," you reply, making sure to smile that he knows you don't mind. He chuckles and sits down, perhaps a little closer than might be necessary.

"So, Tuck. What do you do for a living?" you ask, taking a bite.

"I'm a travel agent," he responds, taking a swig of his beer.

"That's nice. I actually wanted to be one, growing up," you smile. He doesn't respond, but smiles back.

"So you work at the bookstore with Mel?" he asks, setting the beer down next to him.

"Well I started as her colleague. I uh... I actually just got promoted a month ago, so I... basically... run the place now," you respond kind of shyly, not wanting to seem like you're bragging.

"Oh wow, congratulations," he smiles, seeming genuinely happy for you.

Your conversation flows so naturally you are surprised that this is only the second time you have met. You come to notice that besides being a flirt, Tuck is also really sweet. You get to know all kinds of personal things about his life, about his 7-year-old son Joe, little titbits about his and Joe's mother's, Katie's divorce, and what he likes to do in his spare time. He asks you about your life, and you tell him how you and Lauren met in the soccer little league, the things you two got into in Atlanta and what you think of LA, when -

"Okay, you two about ready with your date? I need you to do some heavy lifting, Tuck," FDR stands in front of the two of you, smiling. You two look at each other and you both chuckle, and Tuck gets up, offering you a hand to help you. FDR heads back inside as you stand up, but Tuck doesn't let go of your hand.

"Promise not to leave without saying goodbye?" he asks, stroking your fingers with his thumb.

"Promise," you smile up at him, and again he flashes you a smile before turning and disappearing into the house.

As the day draws to a close you can't stop smiling. All afternoon you catch Tuck stealing glances your way every time you are in the same room, and he seems to be appreciating the view. It's already dark when you start to gather your things to go home, when Lauren pulls you aside.

"Is there something going on between you and Tuck?" she asks, point blank. You are slightly dumbfounded by her question.

"Well, apart from flirting back and forth, no. Why?" you reply truthfully. Lauren looks into your eyes and she looks... concerned?

"Don't get me wrong, he's such a great guy, and an amazing kisser. Wait. Don't ask me how I know that," she quickly adds. You look at her even more bewildered now.

"Just... be careful, okay?" she pleads.

"What's going on?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Lauren looks at you and opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again.

"Nothing. Nothing's going on. Tuck really is an amazing guy. And you are an amazing girl," she smiles and gives you a hug. As you hug her back, you realise every muscle in your body aches because of the day's labour.

"Thanks so much for helping us out," she says once again as she pulls away. "I owe you one."

"Oh I think you owe me more than one," you laugh as you leave her. You remember the promise you made Tuck and try your best to find him, but he's nowhere to be seen. You guess he's at FDR's apartment, and you are so tired you will probably fall asleep on your feet if you stay and wait for him. Making your way over to your car you find a piece of paper tucked under the wiper blade. You fold it open to read a phone number and the words

_In case you manage to escape without the goodbye,  
Tuck_

You read the words a couple of times. Folding the paper you press it to your chest, breathing in the cool night air. He wants you to call him. And you want to call him. You want to call him right now. But getting in your car you realise that you just can't get Lauren's words off your mind.

The following morning you pace back and forth in your living room. The piece of paper is all crumpled on your dark wooden sofa table, with your cell phone next to it. You have picked up your phone at least five times to make the call, and the farthest you've gotten was that it almost rang once. You're contemplating on whether or not you should put some music on in the background when you call, then deciding against it. Perhaps you should go outside so that he would think you actually had a life, instead of staring at your phone in horror.

"Oh STOP IT," you exclaim at your frustration sitting down on your couch, and after a couple of deep breaths you grab the phone, proceeding to dial.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

"Hello?" you hear his voice, and suddenly all frustration is out the window.

"Oh hi, uhh, Tuck? It's me, Emma."

"Oh hiya. Didn't expect to hear from you, seeing as you broke your promise and all…" he trails off. You know that he is smiling.

"Yeah, I'm real sorry about that. It's just that I am a very important lady and I don't have time to wait around," you smile as you lean back to lie down on your couch.

"Is that so?" he chuckles.

"Mm-hmm," you reply, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

"How utterly silly of me to inconvenience you like that. Is there any way I can make all this up to you?" he asks tentatively.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," you reply. "I'm free tomorrow night."

You can hear the noise in the background go quiet, like he just went from the street to inside a building. You then hear muffled voices, like he's covering the phone with his hand while talking with someone.

"Tomorrow night sounds lovely. I'm really sorry but I have to go now, but text me your address and I'll pick you up at seven?" he asks.

"Sounds good, I'll see you tomorrow," you reply, and hang up, smiling. You are going on a date with Tuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: A longer chapter again, and it comes with a warning: enjoy the fluff while it lasts, as I think the next chapter will bring some drama with it ;) anywho, thanks for reading, reviewing, following, favourite-ing (is that a word? o.o), and without further ado, enjoy, my lovelies!**

Panic. Absolute, pure panic.

You run around your apartment, trying to make it and yourself presentable. It's a quarter to seven, and you're worried that Tuck is the kind of guy who is annoyingly on time, or worse, shows up early. You've managed to do your hair and makeup, all you now have to do is pick up clothes. You actually had no idea where you were going, Tuck had only instructed you to wear something "comfortable". What the heck could you do on a first date that involved comfortable clothing?

As you try to look through your clothes fast and efficiently, you feel the oddest places sweating.

"So much for the shower…" you mutter under your breath. You finally decide on pair of skinny jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt with a pocket over your left breast. For the shoes you decide to go with flats because you have no idea whether you'll be standing or sitting for the night, opting for your girly black pumps. You had curled your hair and left it down. As you add simple pearl earrings, you look at your reflection in the mirror, surprised at how pleased you are with your ensemble, and you start to relax a bit.

As you sit on your couch to wait for him to show up, you try to remember the last time you were on a date. It was two months ago, with a guy called Jack. You two had had absolutely nothing in common, and the whole evening was horrible. It was actually a blind date, organized by Sean. You'd eventually thrown your drink in Jack's face and left. It has taken you a while, but you can now chuckle at the memory. Lucky for you, Sean and Jack weren't that close that it would've affected your relationship with Sean.

Carter hadn't taken you going on a date so well, even though the whole evening had been a bust. So far you had chosen not to tell him about Tuck. You had only seen Carter once since the wedding, things ending up like they usually did. You feel a pang of self-hatred as you remember that you were thinking about Tuck the whole time. After Carter left you promised yourself that it was the last time he was in your bed.

Your problem with men has always been that you dive in head first. You don't want to do it this time, but so far you really like Tuck, even though you haven't actually even been on a date yet. And he seems to like you too. You only wish you could get Lauren's words off your mind...

Then you hear a knock at the door.

"Hi. Perfect timing," you smile as you see him standing on your doorstep. He is wearing a grey v-neck, which, much to your liking, hugs his torso perfectly, and loose-fitted jeans. You smile to yourself at how similarly the pair of you are dressed.

"Hiya. Brought you these," he smiles, and offers you a bouquet of various flowers. You gasp in surprise. It's been a while since a man has brought you flowers.

"Oh wow, thank you," you smile, taking the bouquet. Your fingers brush his slightly, and your eyes meet.

"Come in for a sec, I'll just put these in water," you say, heading for the kitchen where you keep the vases. You hear him close the door.

"I like your place. It looks like you," you hear him say. You chuckle.

"Small and messy?" you ask, peeking your head around the corner to look at him.

"Lovely and fun," he replies smiling, and you can't help but blush, retreating back into the kitchen. You fill a vase with water and place the flowers in it, and walking back out into the living room you place the vase on the table. Standing up you look at Tuck. For a moment you get lost appreciating the way he looks, standing in your living room with a small smile playing on his lips.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, which is not helping you get rid of your blush.

"Thank you, you don't look so bad yourself," you respond with a shy smile. "Am I dressed properly for the occasion?" you ask, spreading your arms so that he can take a better look. He reaches out and grabs your hand, spinning you around in front of him. When you turn to face him, he stops you, his other hand on your waist.

"Perfect," he smiles, his face inches from yours. You avert your gaze downwards and smile, and he chuckles and lets go of you.

"So where are we going?" you ask, grabbing your purse.

"It's a surprise, you'll just have to wait and see," he smirks, and opens the front door for you.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You have been driving for over a half an hour now, and the scenery is starting to look more and more industrial. You have no idea where you are, and this is the moment your brain decides to remind you of Lauren's words to be careful.

"So now can you tell me where we're going?" you ask warily.

"You can see for yourself, we're here," he responds as he pulls up in front of a gate. You are dumbfounded.

"Where are we?" you ask as he hops out of the car, and as you are gathering your things he has already opened your door for you.

"You can leave those in the car, you won't be needing them," he instructs, and you do as you're told. As you get out, you realise where you are, and a huge grin spreads on your face.

"Is this a race track?" you squeal. He closes the car door smiling and nods.

"It is," he smiles at your enthusiasm. You squeal again.

"I didn't know these things were open this late," you speak wide-eyed as you try to take it all in. A guy walks up to you from the other side of the gate and holds it open for the two of you to pass. Tuck greets him and introduces the two of you, as he hands you both helmets.

"It's not really open per se," he whispers to you as he places a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards two cars parked alongside each other on the track. You look at him with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow.

"You know a guy?"

"I know a guy," he laughs. Then you get a closer look at the cars. They are Mini Coopers, one dark blue and one silver, your all time favourite cars, another thing you picked up on your visit to London.

"You are either very good at guessing what I like or you've done some sort of background check," you laugh as you stop next to the blue Mini. Tuck glances at you.

"Why, you like Minis?" he asks, leaning his back against the car.

"I _love_ Minis. I've always wanted one," you reply smiling, running your fingers along the hood.

"It's a good thing you'll get to drive one then. We're gonna have a drag race," he smiles, and you can't help the smile that spreads on your face. Back in Atlanta this used to be your way of unwinding: racing cars or anything that got your adrenaline pumping really.

"So which one's mine?" you ask, eyeing the silver one. Tuck notices, but still tells you that you can take your pick. Smiling you start making your way towards the other car, when he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Surprised you turn your head towards him, eyeing his fingers on your wrist.

"I have just one question for you," he smirks, as his fingers move from your wrist to your hand, and you feel a little sparkle.

"Can you drive a stick?" he asks, mostly serious but with a hint of the obvious innuendo. Worked up by his pleasant surprise you lean closer and whisper into his ear.

"I am all about the manual," and with that you retreat over to the other car. Tuck chuckles under his breath.

"I bet you are," he smiles as he climbs into the blue Mini.

Tuck hadn't anticipated that you would kick his ass. At first he was a little surprised, but he soon started to enjoy how much fun you were having. After toying around at the race track for what felt like minutes to you, but had actually been almost two hours, you decided to go get something to eat. Neither of you were really that hungry, so you decided on ice cream from one of the stands by the shore.

You sit on a bench while Tuck is getting the two of you ice cream. Feeling the sea breeze on your face you close your eyes. You catch yourself thinking that so far this is one of the best dates you've ever been on. You liked going to a movie or a nice restaurant as much as the next girl, but it was always more fun when it was something more imaginative and adrenaline was involved, and if you could win your date at something, so much the better. And then there was Tuck himself. You noticed some girls eyeing the pair of you when you'd walked together, obviously thinking what a guy like him was doing with a girl like you. Then you'd noticed the guys those girls were with, how they'd been checking you out while their girls were checking Tuck out. So you guess you're not that far out of Tuck's league.

"Strawberry, as the lady requested," you hear his voice say, and you open your eyes to see his hand holding a cone in front of you. You smile and take it thanking him, and he sits down next to you.

"That's not really a grownup flavour, is it?" he smirks, taking a bite of his scoop of chocolatemint. Your jaw drops, but you can't hide your smile.

"I am so done hearing that strawberry isn't a grownup flavour. I'm a grownup, and I like it, hence it's a grownup flavour," you snap with a laugh.

"You are so not a grownup if you use the word grownup in relation to yourself," he chuckles.

"Oh yeah, well... oh shut up!" you reply laughing, not coming up with anything witty. He laughs too, and your gazes lock on each other. You have no idea how long you sit there, just talking, every now and then someone brushing someone's arm lightly. You only realise how late it is when the booths start closing and there are less and less people around.

"So, I should probably start heading home, got an early day at work tomorrow," you say, not really wanting to leave.

"Right, let's get you home then," Tuck replies, standing up and offering you his hand. He surprises you with his gesture, as you don't really need any help getting up from the bench. You take his hand anyway, and as you stand up, he intertwines your fingers with his. He looks into your eyes to see what you think about it, and you give him a smile, and a small squeeze to his fingers. Hand in hand you walk back to his car.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"So... I had a great time tonight. Thank you so much for everything," you smile as he's walked you up to your door.

"So I did good?" he asks smiling, with his hands in his pockets.

"You did really good," you smile back, fumbling about your clutch to find your keys. Finding them you drop your arms to your sides and look up at him.

"Can I then conclude that you might be up for doing this again?" he asks, taking a step towards you. He places a hand on your hip, you can feel his breathing on your lips, and it takes every bit of self control to stay calm. Your hand finds its way to his shoulder.

"You can," you reply, and your nose brushes his. His eyes move from yours to your lips. He leans in and pauses for a second, his lips less than an inch from yours. You feel like the world stops when he finally presses his lips softly on yours. The rush of feelings takes you by surprise. The kiss is soft and chaste, lingering.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn't step away.

"Call me?" you breathe, your eyes lingering on his lips, then moving to his eyes.

"Try and stop me," he says, his lips turning into a smirk at the end. He lets go of you and you let yourself into your apartment. Closing the door, you lean back onto it and sink to the floor, with your fingers on your lips.

"What have I gotten myself into..." you think, as you hear him start the car and drive off. Then you notice your phone vibrating in your clutch.

"You know it's not safe to talk on the phone while driving," you smile answering the phone.

"How'd you know I was driving?" you hear Carter's voice from the other end. Shit.

"Ummmm, haha, lucky guess," you reply, pushing yourself up from the floor, mentally kicking yourself.

"Weird. Anywho, mind if I come over? I mean, I know it's late but I could really use some company. Your company," he says, and it breaks your heart a little.

"I'm sorry, Carter, I'm just about to turn in. I have a really early morning tomorrow."

You discard your shoes and jeans as you make your way to the bathroom. There's a silence from the other end, which breaks your heart even more.

"Okay, no worries. Sleep tight," he finally says, and hangs up.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for not posting anything for so long, my life is quite hectic at the moment. Here's a long chapter to make up for it :)**

**Also: my apologies for the language!**

**Also: I'd really appreciate reviews!**

**Also: enjoy! :)**

A couple of days later

As you unlock the door to let yourself into the bookstore, you make a decision. Tonight is the night you are going to end things with Carter. You considered just not seeing him anymore, but then decided against the cowardly solution. He deserves a proper ending to things after all. You text him to see if wanted to meet up at a cafe after work, to which he obliges. You are dreading the whole thing, thanking heavens that you have a lot of end-of-month stuff to do, billing and that sort of thing, which will keep your mind off of Carter. He has been the one to occupy your thoughts since your date with Tuck, as now you are forced to end things as you are becoming involved with someone else – the thought of finally ending it causing you both relief and anxiety all at once. You haven't seen Tuck since the date; he did call you the next morning to tell you that he had a lovely time, but also that he had to leave town for a couple of days because of work. You assume he's still out of town since you haven't heard from him.

Stepping into your office you throw your bag on the couch in the corner of the room. You really like your office: it has dark brown hardwood floors, a desk in the middle with two chairs in front of it, windows to let some sun in and a lot of bookshelves for storing whatever books you sell that are popular at the moment, and to keep all your binders in. You even have your own coffee maker in the corner and a little stash of power bars and candy for the days you're too busy or lazy to go out for lunch.

Billing is not one of your favourite parts of the job, but luckily it only needs to be done once a month. You've just gotten the books out when your phone rings. Wondering who might be calling you this early, you make sure to check the caller ID, which surprises you pleasantly.

"Good morning, Tuck," you smile into the phone.

"Alright, love? Sleep well? I didn't wake you, did I?" he replies, with a hint of worry at the end. You laugh.

"Don't worry, I'm already at the store. And I did sleep well, thank you. So you're back from your trip?" you smile.

"I am indeed, and with that in mind in addition to hearing your lovely voice I was basically ringing to see if you might be available for lunch," he says.

"As it happens, I am. Did you have a place in mind?" you ask, to which he replies that he thought you might like to choose.

"Okay. You like tofu, right?" you ask, and the silence on the other end is palpable.

"Uhh, sure..." he replies, and you laugh.

"I'm only kidding," to which he replies with a sigh and a laugh. "Come by the store around one? You know where it is, right?" He replies that he does.

"Can't wait," he says, causing you to look down even though you know he can't see you blushing.

"Me neither," you reply, and hang up.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Emma, there's a really attractive man here asking for you," a shop assistant called Joan whispers from the door of your office, raising an eyebrow at you. You notice that it's one o'clock and you smile shrugging her off and grab your purse, excited to see Tuck again. As you enter the store area, your face falls.

"Carter, what are you doing here? I thought we agreed to meet up after work," you say in a low voice so your colleagues and customers won't hear, your annoyance leaking through. He smiles, not noticing the irritation in your voice.

"I know, but I thought you'll probably lunch by yourself so why don't I keep you company," he replies. He looks at you with his innocent eyes and smile as your head fills with curse words.

"Uhhh that's nice but I actually do have company for lunch so why don't we just meet up later like we agreed, okay?" your speech comes out so fast that it sounds like it's just one word, but you are desperate to get Carter out of the store before Tuck shows up, when...

"Hey sweetheart, you ready to go?" you hear Tuck's voice, and turning your head you see him approaching. It's like seeing a car crash: everything feels like in slow motion. From the corner of your eye you see Carter's smile fade as Tuck reaches you and places a hand on your hip and a soft kiss on your cheek. For a brief moment you forget about Carter when Tuck's scent surrounds you, his cheek on yours, but you are soon pulled back to reality when you catch another glimpse of Carter's face. You tap Tuck lightly on his chest with your palm to get him to back off a little, but he doesn't budge, only stands up a bit.

"Yeah, I am. Oh, Tuck, this is Carter. Carter, this is Tuck," you are mortified, but you still have some manners. Tuck offers his hand for Carter to shake.

"Hiya, nice to meet you. You a friend of Emma's?" he asks, seemingly oblivious to the situation. Carter looks at him expressionless, slowly raising his hand to shake Tuck's.

"Yeah. You?" he asks, at which you clap your hands together, drawing their attention to you.

"Alright, I'll see you after work, Carter, okay? Okay?" you ask. He doesn't respond, just nods.

You turn back to Joan, telling her you'll be back in an hour or so. She smirks at you and you glare at her, which wipes the smirk off her face. You turn around to see the two men eyeing each other, and not in a friendly manner.

"Let's go," you say, nudging Tuck's arm. He turns his eyes towards you and a smile spreads on his lips. He places his hand at the small of your back and guides you towards the exit. As you walk with Tuck to the door, you're not sure if it's your imagination or not, but you think you can hear Carter growl.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You take Tuck to a small cafe a block from the store, trying the make small talk as you walk to avoid the subject at hand. As you reach your destination you choose a chicken caesar salad while he opts for a BLT sandwich. As you both sit down at a table in the sun, you know what's coming before he even says the words.

"So, an old boyfriend?" he asks, taking a sip of his mineral water. You shrug.

"An old friend," you reply, poking at your salad. You really don't want to be getting into this with Tuck, you don't want to scare him off when the two of you have barely begun dating.

"Didn't seem too happy about me, though," Tuck points out, looking into your eyes with a stern face.

"He doesn't like me seeing other guys," you say, truthfully.

"And what do you think about that?" he asks, squinting his eyes in the sun in a way that makes him look adorable, little wrinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes.

"I don't really care, I'm not his girlfriend, never was and never will be," you state, chewing on a piece of lettuce.

"But he seems to hope so," Tuck replies.

"Well, you don't always get what you want, do you?" you say, and you see a little smile play on his lips. "Can we please not talk about him right now? I'm just really happy that you're back in town."

"Me too. I missed you," he says while lifting his sandwich to his mouth to take a big bite. As he places the sandwich back on the plate there's mayonnaise on his lip. You laugh and lift your hand to cup his face, wiping the mayonnaise off with your thumb. He's a little surprised at your action, so you show him your thumb.

"Mayo," you say, and he surprises you by grabbing your wrist and brings your thumb to his lips, gently sucking and licking to get the mayonnaise off. You hear yourself gasp a little at the feeling of his tongue, which doesn't escape his notice, and you both smile.

The hour flies by and you have to head back to the store. Tuck walks with you, holding your hand the whole way. You stop in front of the store.

"So, thanks again," you say. He doesn't say anything, instead he looks deep into your eyes and brushes a strand of hair from your face with his fingers.

"I would really like to kiss you right now," he states, stepping closer. Your breathing becomes slightly uneven as his hands cup your face. You look at his plump lips, so close to yours.

"So kiss me then," you say, curling your index finger inside his shirt collar and pulling his lips onto yours. This kiss is nothing like the one at your door. As your tongue meets his, you feel his hands move from your face to your lower back and neck, pulling you harder against him, your hands going onto his neck and hair. He feels urgent on your lips, like he can't get enough. His hand travels down to cup your bottom, and he bites your lower lip, causing you to moan.

"Alright, this is a public place, move it along, you two," you hear a female voice, and you break the kiss to see a police officer standing next to you. You entangle each other, mutter apologies her way, and she leaves.

You look at Tuck, who is trying to catch his breath the same as you are. You feel an urge to touch his soft lips, now redder and plumper from the recent borderline brutal contact with yours, but the police officer is still observing you.

"When can I see you again?" Tuck asks, and it takes a lot of self control not to ask him to come back to your office and have you right there on your desk. "I suppose you're not free tonight?" he continues, and you remember your arrangements with Carter.

"No, not tonight... Tomorrow?" you offer in return. First his face lights up, but then he remembers something.

"I have Joe tomorrow," he says apologetically. You force yourself to smile like it doesn't bother you.

"Okay, some other time then. How about you call me and we figure something out?" you say, trying to mask your disappointment, which you feel you have no right to be. You completely understand that he wants to spend time with his son whenever he can, and you are nowhere near ready to meet him, nor do you think that Tuck is ready to introduce you to him.

He smiles, places a hand on your hip and gives you a kiss on the forehead. It sends chills down your spine, the good ones. The feeling leaves you dumbfounded – you always thought you hated being kissed on the forehead – as he salutes the officer still looking at you and smiles to you before turning and walking away.

You walk back into the bookstore to be greeted with applause and cheers. For a moment you have no idea what is going on, until you realise that they were watching you the whole time.

"Is there more where he came from because he's yum-mee," another one of your shop workers, Amy, asks, as you walk by, mortified, to make your way to your office at the back of the store. "He looks like he's one hell of a kisser, too."

"Oh shut up and get back to work," you smile back at her and the rest of them, when you notice Carter who's been behind the cheering lot the whole time, sitting in front of your office. He does not look happy, nor does he raise his eyes from his hands as you stop to stand in front of him.

"This why you wanted to see me tonight?" he asks, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Can we go into my office?" you ask, trying to place you hand on his shoulder but he moves away from your touch.

"Answer me," he says silently.

You sigh and try to catch his eye.

"Please, Carter, let's go into my office." He finally looks up.

"You still didn't answer me!" he yells at you, making your patience run out.

"Yes, okay, yes! _Now_ can we go into my office so we can talk about this like adults?"

He gets up, looking at you with his eyes ablaze and for a while you think he's just going to walk out of the store. Instead he walks into your office, and you follow him.

"Have a seat," you tell him as you close the door, and he lets out a dry chuckle.

"I am not one of your clients. I don't want to sit," he says petulantly. He turns away, facing the wall.

"So you wanted to tell me we were done then, right, that we're through?" he asks.

"Carter, I..." you start.

"RIGHT?" he turns, and for the first time you are actually afraid of him. His eyes are wide, and you are not sure whether he wants to smack you or cry and tell you not to leave him.

"Carter, there never was an 'us'. I told you that from the get-go," you state, trying to keep your voice calm so it might calm him as well. "We just..."

"Fucked. Is that what you were going to say? We just fucked. And seeing as you told me, it's all my fault then, is it, that I feel like shit, seeing you with him?" he says pointing towards the door, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"No, it's my fault for keeping it up this long. I'm so sorry," you whisper the last part, feeling the tears burning your eyes.

"How long have you known him?" Carter asks, causing you to look up at him.

"What does that have to do with anything?" you reply. Of course he would ask.

"ANSWER MY GODDAMN QUESTION."

"We met at the wedding, at Melissa and Sean's wedding," you cry. The inevitable happens, and you see him put two and two together.

"So when I came over last week, you were... you were... thinking... of him... while we... Weren't you?" his voice lower than you've ever heard him at the end. You can't see a thing for the tears blurring your eyes.

"Carter I never meant to hurt you, you have to belie-"

"You don't tell me what to do. Not anymore. You don't exist for me anymore," he says and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

You cry so hard that your feet can't hold you up any longer and you fall sobbing on the floor behind your desk, your body violently shaking from the crying. You don't know how long you've sat there when you hear someone walk into the room and soon you feel slender arms wrapping around you, Joan's fragrance surrounding you. You cry your pain out into her shoulder, and she lets you, not letting go until the shaking finally stops.

"You want to talk about it?" she asks, offering you the second box of tissues. You smile weakly and take the box offered.

"Thanks," you say, wiping your eyes and nose, as Joan gives you a questioning but friendly look. "That was just something I should've done a long time ago. It would've been less painful for both parties if I hadn't dragged it out so long," you sigh, raising your eyes towards the door. "I'll probably never see him again, judging by his goodbye."

"Well, I know I don't know the specifics, but judging from what I saw I say good riddance. Besides, now you have that British hunk to chase away any ghosts of the past, and he seems more than willing to do so," she says smirking, and you can't help but smile back. You feel like shit for causing Carter so much pain, but at the same time you are relieved that it is finally over, feeling like an anvil the size of an apartment building has been lifted from your shoulders.

"So, speaking of the British hunk, when are you seeing him again?" Joan asks, in her not-so-subtle attempt at pick-me-up. You chuckle.

"Well, as it turns out I'm free tonight, so..." you smile, wiping the rest of the tears from your face.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Again my apologies for not updating more! Inspiration struck for a Tommy Conlon fic, so I've mainly been working on that. "Sometimes falling is the best part" is actually written almost completely, it's the editing that's taking me so long.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! Some swearing in this one, you have been warned. Have a good weekend everyone!**

One week passes, then another. Much to your liking, Tuck seems to be just as into you as you are into him, and the whole issue with Carter hasn't been brought up again by either of you. He has taken you to dinner, to the movies, to the beach, once even skydiving, and on many occasions you've ended up making out on your couch, in his car, once a restroom of a restaurant. Yet, every time you go to kick things up a notch, like go for his belt, he stops you. Your sexual frustration is becoming tangible. You'd feel that he just didn't want you, had you not felt his erection against you so many times, which only added to your need of him.

That night he invited you to his loft for the first time, and as you take the elevator up to his floor, you can't help being very self-aware, the catcalls you received on the street not helping you any. You chose to wear a short, dark grey tweed skirt in the hopes that he might finally take it off of you, accompanied by a sheer navy blue blouse, leaving a couple of the top buttons undone. You'd brushed your wavy hair over one shoulder and on your feet you wore black four inch heels. They were a bit more than you usually went for, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and you knew how long the shoes made your legs look.

As you knock on his door you can smell someone cooking something lovely... pasta?

The door opens, and you see Tuck with an apron on.

"Oh. Hello, Iron chef. Didn't realise the wonderful smell was coming from your kitchen," you greet him as you lean in to kiss his cheeks and hand him the bottle of wine you brought. He chuckles.

"Come in, love," he says closing the door behind you. "Trying to get me drunk?" he continues, placing the bottle on the counter and removing the apron, stepping over to you.

"Would that be so bad?" you smile innocently as he laughs, lifting your chin with his fingers and he presses his lips on yours. You feel your private parts waking up immediately at his touch, but as swiftly as his lips landed on yours he pulls them away.

"Let me take a look at you," he says, stepping further, and you immediately miss his warm body against yours, taking pleasure, however, in his expression at your skimpy skirt showing off your legs.

"You are trouble, aren't you?" he chuckles and gives your butt a little squeeze before slapping it lightly and returning to the cooking you obviously interrupted when you walked in.

"Oh you don't know the half of it if you don't give it to me tonight..." you mutter, trying to look like you are observing his loft.

"What's that?" he asks, turning his head to look at you.

"Oh nothing, I was just admiring your place," you respond.

"Maybe if you play nice I'll give you a tour later," he winks, not helping your current state at all. To occupy your mind you actually turn your attention to his loft. As industrial as the space is, you like how he's made it look homey. The ceiling is way up high, and one wall is completely covered with a grid of frames. The walls are a greenish colour, and in the corner you spot a space where he obviously works out, judging by the punching bag and gloves. There's a sitting area in the middle of the space, pointed towards a television, across from which is the kitchen. Raising your eyes above the kitchen you see his bedroom, more like a sleeping area as it is not closed off with more than a few bars. _So close_, you think, prying your eyes off his bed to think of something else.

The meal finished, you sit on his couch while he cleans up the kitchen; he refused help. He then follows you, bringing with him another bottle of wine, as the pair of you had finished the one you brought with the food, and fills your glass.

"So... You care to watch a film?" he asks. You smile, apparently succeeding in hiding how much you just want to rip his clothes off.

"What have you got?" you ask, and he goes over to the wall, opening a cabinet to reveal his immense movie collection and motioning for you to take your pick.

"Wow. I think somebody likes their movies," you comment, and placing your wineglass on the table you get up and walk over to him. As your fingers trace the casings while you study the titles, you feel his hand appear on your neck, pulling you closer to him. Suddenly you feel his hot breath and lips graze your neck, tracing figures on the skin, which he knows you enjoy. Your eyes close as you expose more of your neck for him, and he bites you softly, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

"The things you do to me," he mutters into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses up your skin, along your jaw line, and finally your lips. Turning you around so you are facing him he wastes no time, his tongue trailing along your upper lip, asking for entrance. One of his hands holds onto your side while the other one trails up your thigh, bringing your skirt up with it. As his hand comes up to your butt, your breathing hitches. You want him so much it hurts, the physical ache between your legs becoming unbearable as he touches you.

You play with the hem of his shirt, afraid that if you try to lift it, he'll pull away again. You decide to go for it anyway, and as you guessed, he grabs your wrists and stops you. Your head falls in frustration, you no longer have the strength to act as though everything is fine. Tuck lets go of your wrists and walks over to the couch, sitting down. You listen to his breathing, as fast as yours. You look at him, and he looks just as worked up as you are. As you walk over to him he looks up at you, the look in eyes reminding you of your own feelings: frustration.

"Not to sound like a hormonal 16-year-old boy, but why won't you have sex with me?" you ask, placing your hands on your hips. He looks away and shrugs. You sit down on his lap, straddling him, using your index finger to turn his head so that he's looking you in the eye.

"What is it? Do you not want me, is that it? Because if it is, I want you to tell me now so that I can stop making a fool of myself," you rant, and he suddenly looks amused. He grabs your hand and places it on the front of his pants, and you can feel his erection through the jeans he's wearing. He gulps as your hand touches him.

"Does it feel like I don't want you? Because I do. I want you so badly that I have to take a cold shower every time I think about you."

"Well why won't you just fuck me then?! I'm right here," you respond, cupping his face with your hands. He looks down.

"It's because of Carter," he mumbles under his breath. You look at him amazed; you did not see this coming.

He raises his eyes back to yours and takes a deep breath in.

"Look, I don't know the specifics between the two of you, but I suspect it was more than friendship, even though you weren't dating. I remember how distant and quiet you were that night when you were supposed to meet him, but instead hung out with me. I know he meant a lot to you, and seeing as I was the reason he apparently called it quits with you I didn't want to push you into something you weren't ready for," he explains, looking at you like a defeated puppy. Somewhere along his speech your hands have moved from the sides of his face to the sides of your own.

You take a deep breath. "Okay," you say, placing your hands on his chest. Here goes nothing.

"You wanna know what the deal with Carter was?" you ask, and he nods. "The deal with Carter was that he was my first friend here in LA. Then one drunken night, almost a year ago, I ended up between the sheets with him. The next morning, in the midst of the worst hangover of my life, he told me that he liked me in a boy-likes-girl sort of way. I did tell him that I didn't feel the same way, but we agreed we'd stay friends. Somewhere along the line he started calling me late at night, first when he was drunk, but that lessened with time. We'd usually end up having sex, empty and horrible sex. I knew all along that I should stop it, but I just couldn't bring myself to face facts. So in short, he was in love with me and I was a jackass for stringing him along. Feel free to throw me out now," you finish. You don't look him in the eye, and he doesn't say a word the whole time you speak.

When you finally look up into his eyes, there is a sadness there for which you can't quite find a reason.

"You make it sound like you are the villain of the story," he says softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"Well how else could I make it sound? I knew about his feelings all along, I knew that he didn't just want to be friends and I didn't do anything about it," you sigh, looking down at your lap.

"Darling, it sounds to me like he took advantage of your friendship," he almost whispers, and your eyes snap up at his. "He also knew all along that you didn't want him like he wanted you. And he still kept ringing you, kept coming over, kept..." he trails off, and a part of you realises that he has a point. You get up from his lap and sit next to him, one of your legs still draped over his thighs.

"Oh my God. I never thought of it like that. I can't believe I never thought of it like that," you mutter, your eyes not focusing on anything as your brain works overtime going through your toxic relationship with Carter. The wine is making you dizzy as you try to come to terms with the fact that you weren't the only one in the wrong, that Carter is just as much to blame as you are, if not more, when you feel a hand cup your face.

"Right, how about that movie?" Tuck asks, looking into your eyes with a sympathetic look. You bite your lip.

"But, what about... you know," you say shyly. He smiles and shakes his head.

"Not tonight," he says softly. Seeing your hurt expression, he continues, "Look. When it finally happens I want you to be able to focus completely on you and me, and tonight you'll just be preoccupied with this revelation. So no hanky-panky tonight," he smiles, again stroking your cheek with his thumb. You chuckle at his choice of words, realising that he's right, again. His other hand finds it way on your leg in his lap, his eyes follow, and it looks like he's about ready to eat your leg with his eyes.

"But with you looking like that I don't know how long I'll be able to hold off for, I tell you that," he sighs, and as you laugh he gets up to pick a movie.


	9. Chapter 9

The following morning Tuck calls to let you know he'll be out of town for a couple of days again, but that he has something special planned for when he comes back. You think it slightly odd how much he travels for his work, but you then consider that maybe his boss sends him off to check new locations or hotels, and the thought really makes you wish you were a travel agent as well. Perhaps the two of you could test those hotels together, making thorough notes especially about the capacity of the bathtubs or the durability of the beds, or...

You laugh at your idiocy, as you sip on your morning coffee gazing through your window, wearing Tuck's t-shirt you had slept in the night before at his loft. Walking over to your couch, you curl up in the corner and go through your phone. You didn't have to be at the store until noon, so you decide to call Lauren.

"Oh my God, Emma, thank God you called," she breathes as an answer.

"Is everything okay?" you ask concerned, sitting up.

"No, everything's going down the drain," she responds, and you can hear noises in the background that make you think of... hospitals?

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" you ask, gripping on to the arm of the couch.

"Physically I'm good, mentally I'm a wreck," she replies, sounding like she's about to have a panic attack.

"Okay, can you tell me what happened?"

"Okay so you know how Trish and Bob like to do all kinds of weird sex things?" she says, at which you drop your head and try to swallow your sigh.

"Yeah?"

"Well, they were doing something, I don't even want to know what, in the shower or tub or whatever, and they slipped, and now Trish's leg is broken in three places and she can't perform her maid of honour duties next week at our wedding," Lauren finally says, and you have to cover the phone with your hand so she won't hear your laugh. You pinch yourself in an attempt to calm down, but all you want to do is laugh at the situation Lauren seems to be thinking is the end of the world.

"I am so sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do for you?" you ask instead.

"Oh I am so glad you asked. I know this is kind of late notice, but would you be my maid of honour stand-in?" she chirps, and you are slightly taken aback.

"Oh wow. Well yeah, I can do that. I'm honoured Lauren, thanks," you reply. You know you weren't her first choice, and who knows if she would've even asked you had you not called her. But she asked you nonetheless.

"You are awesome, you know that? Okay so you should probably talk with Trish about things, because I don't really know what she's done and what she hasn't done so far, but I'm sure you'll do great. There's the bachelorette party on Saturday, to which you were already coming but I don't know if there's arrangements to be taken care of still," she adds, slightly apologetically. You smile.

"It's fine, don't you worry. I'll talk with Trish," you state. You talk a bit more and then you hung up. Saturday was three days away. Tuck would be home on Saturday as well. You had been contemplating on ditching the bachelorette party early to sneak over to Tuck's, but now that idea was out the window, as you were the hostess. You and Tuck had agreed to get the happy couple something together, which you were planning to do on Sunday. You then realise, that atop of your new maid of honour duties, you still have a whole week of work next week, before the wedding on Saturday. Judging from your brief knowing of Trish, you were fairly certain that she had left a lot of things to be taken care of on the last possible moment.

You sigh as you get up and make your way to the shower.

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Saturday comes, and you are getting yourself ready to leave for the bachelorette party. Trish had organised the whole thing, all you had to do was confirm who was coming and make sure everyone knew where to be and when.

You don't take the car tonight, instead you call for a cab, which should arrive in ten minutes. You know that you'll be going to a night club later on, so you chose a bright red, strapless dress. It has an empire waist and it comes down to your mid thigh. You accompany it with a golden necklace and your favourite black Louboutins, knowing the red bottom of the shoe would match your dress perfectly. As you hear the cab pulling up, you grab your black clutch and head out.

The cab drops you off in front of the restaurant and you step out, trying to manoeuvre in your short dress. The men smoking in front of the restaurant whistle as you walk past. You are just about to turn around and flip them off when you hear a familiar voice.

"Stop whistling at my girl, find your own," it says, and you lock eyes with Tuck. He looks amazing in a fitted suit, under which he has a lavender button up, couple of the buttons undone to show off a bit of ink and chest hair. His gaze on you is so hungry you feel that you might melt.

"I see you're back," you say, cocking an eyebrow as he steps over to you. His fingertips brush the side of your face and neck, travelling down your exposed shoulder and finally stopping at the small of your back. You feel goose bumps forming in the wake of his touch, his face so close to yours that you can taste the liquor on his breath.

"I see you are determined to torture me," he whispers, a smile on his lips. Your fingers travel up to his luscious lips, and he softly licks your fingertips, causing you to bite your lower lip.

"Oh here you are Emma, I started to think something had happened to you too and that I had the worst luck with bridesmaids in the history of the world!" you hear Lauren's voice from behind Tuck. You pull your hand away and smile over Tuck's shoulder to Lauren. Tuck sighs and turns away from the both of you. You try to swallow a chuckle.

"You're not supposed to be here yet," you smile as Lauren walks up to you, pulling you into a hug.

"I know, but FDR said that the guys were coming to the same restaurant, so I rode with them," she smiles, pulling away from the hug and noticing Tuck, who had not said a word to her. "Hey, you okay?" she nudges him on the shoulder. He turns around, and smiles.

"Hunky-dory. Just plotting with the maid of honour," he replies and places an arm on your shoulder. You then see FDR walk up to you.

"What are you all doing out here, the party's inside!" he exclaims, greeting you with a bow. Tuck lets his arm fall off your shoulder, making sure it grazes your bottom on its way down. FDR in turn, takes Lauren under one arm and you under the other. "Now, let's get you girls good and drunk," to which Lauren giggles and you can't help but smile, feeling Tuck's eyes on you.

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Even though the two parties are at the same restaurant, they are just that – two separate parties. The bachelorette party is in the restaurant area, and you actually plan on eating something as well, whereas the bachelor party is focused on the bar area. In addition to you, Trish had invited Melissa and two of Lauren's other friends, Hannah and Lizzie. You are waiting for your food to arrive when a waiter comes by, holding a bucket of ice, in which there is a gigantic bottle of champagne.

"Courtesy of the best man," he states, and everyone's eyes turn to see Tuck, raising his glass to you all. He looks into your eyes and winks before he turns to say something to FDR's friend Mike.

"What did you say his name was again?" Hannah asks Lauren, waiting for the waiter to pour her a glass.

"Tuck. He's English," Lauren replies, already a bit tipsy.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Melissa chimes in. She's the only one who really knows what's going on between you and Tuck, since you had agreed not to tell people just yet, first you wanted to see how it went. And, you both agreed, it was more exciting that way. He didn't know about your own reason for not telling Lauren, or what she'd said to you about him for that matter.

"Do you know if he's seeing anyone?" Hannah continues, obviously not paying attention to the conversation. She turns her head back and you can see her eyeing Tuck up and down.

"I don't know, is he?" Lauren smirks at you. You thank heavens that the restaurant is rather dimly lit, hiding your blushing again.

"How should I know?" you respond, trying to keep your voice normal.

"Oh come on, the sexual tension between the two of you is nothing short of electric," Trish points out, and you try to shrug her off with a laugh. Hannah looks at you, and she does not look pleased.

"Pfft, no sexual tension between us whatsoever. I'm in fact going through a bit of a dry spell. Whoa, did I just say that? No more wine for me," you babble, trying to avert everyone's attention away from you and Tuck.

"Dry spell? Hard to believe with those legs and that ass," Trish says, downing the rest of the liquid in her glass.

"Okay, should you be drinking with your medication?" you laugh back, and the subject is dropped.

As your food arrives, FDR comes over to your table, followed by Tuck and Bob.

"We're heading to our next destination, we just wanted to tell you girls to have fun," FDR smiles to all of you before pressing a kiss on Lauren's lips. Bob makes his way over to Trish while Tuck is smiling at you. You try to hide how his smouldering eyes are boring into you, when Hannah places her hand on Tuck's arm.

"I don't think we've been introduced," she smiles, and you can't help but think that you wish she wasn't as pretty. You weren't really the jealous type, but you didn't like it how she touched Tuck.

"I'm Tuck, FDR's best man," he replies with a friendly smile. His reply is perfectly pleasant, but at the same time letting her know he doesn't want to get to know her all that deeply.

"I'm Hannah, nice to meet you," she smiles, oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm. Tuck smiles back.

"You too," and averting his eyes to Lauren he continues, "have a great night, love," as he leans in to give her a peck on each cheek. As he stands up, he locks gazes with you.

"You take good care of her, maid of honour," he smirks.

"I intend to," you reply, smirking back.

"Okay captain, where to next?" FDR turns to Tuck, who chuckles.

"Naw mate, you're the captain, the cruise ship captain, remember?" he replies at which they both laugh and make their way out of the restaurant.

"I cannot believe I'm marrying that dork," Lauren states shaking her head, at which you burst out laughing.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you so much everyone for reviewing, reading, adding this story to your favourites and/or followed stories, it really means a lot to me. I'm sorry it's taking me so long to get chapters up, but my personal life is being turned upside down at the moment. I hope you guys are understanding for the less frequent updating!** **I'll try to get another chapter up as soon as possible.**

**So this chapter is the latter part of the bachelorette party. Hope you all have a nice week!**

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You had agreed with the club owner that your entourage need not wait in line but could just walk right in. Lauren had a crown on her head and she was in fine form, as was most of your party. For once you thought you were actually the sober one of the bunch.

As you enter the club, you see that it's packed, with people grinding against each other on the dance floor and music blaring so loud you can barely hear yourself think. As your group finds a vacant sitting area, you lean over to Lauren.

"I'm gonna go get something to drink, okay?" you yell near her ear, and she just nods and continues dancing while seated on the sofa. You fight your way over to the bar amidst the sweaty bodies of dancers, finally succeeding.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks to your amazement as soon as you arrive at the bar.

"Bellini, please, and some water," you reply, tapping on the bar with your fingernails as you sway lightly to the rhythm of the music.

"Lemme buy that for you," you hear a male voice from next to you. You turn your head to see an early middle-aged bald man, clutching onto his beer bottle.

"That's very kind of you, sir, but no thanks," you reply as the bartender hands you two glasses. You hand him a twenty dollar bill as the man next to you continues,

"Well why not, doll?" he slurs, eyeing your breasts. The bartender hands you back your change.

"I am not your doll, and I said no thank you," you reply, taking your drinks and walking away.

When you get back to your table, half your group is missing, you find only Melissa and Trish.

"Where'd the rest go?" you ask as you sit down, placing your water on the table and sipping at your drink.

"To the bar and then to dance," Melissa replies, to which Trish mumbles something resembling cursing.

"She had to stay behind because they felt bad leaving me alone," she mutters, eyeing her cast.

"Hey, I told you, I couldn't dance if I wanted to, these shoes are killing me," Melissa replies, raising one of her six inch heels in front of Trish's face as proof, which causes her to smile a little. "I'm just as crippled as you are."

"Haha," she replies dryly. She then raises her eyes to look at something behind you.

"May we help you, sir?" she asks in an annoyed tone, and you turn around the see the sleaze ball from the bar.

"Could I tempt you for a dance, doll?" he asks you, and you look at him in disbelief.

"Didn't I already tell you I am not your doll? And no thanks in regards to the dance," you reply, turning your back on him.

"Hey, no need to be rude. Just one little dance," he continues, his hand reaching out for your shoulder when a hand appears, grabbing his wrist.

"I believe the lady said no. That would be your cue to leave her alone," you hear Tuck's voice, and you look up to see him accompanied by Sean, who goes over to sit with Mel. The man drops his arm.

"And who are you to tell me what to do?" he asks Tuck, squeezing his hands into fists.

"I'm not telling you what to do, mate. She is. Now clear off," Tuck continues. For a moment it looks like the man is going to walk away, but instead he takes a swing at Tuck. Your hands fly over your mouth in shock, everything happens so fast, and before you know it, Tuck has the man pinned on the floor, face down. Bouncers are on them in a heartbeat, ready to throw them both out. The lot of you make your way to the side entrance, where you and a helpful bystander who saw and heard the whole thing explain that Tuck wasn't at fault, resulting in the man being taken away in a police car and Tuck being allowed to stay on the condition that he doesn't cause the bouncers any more work that evening.

The two of you stand outside the side entrance to cool off a bit. Tuck is leaning back on the brick wall, his hands in his pockets and you lean on your shoulder on the wall next to him, with your arms crossed over your chest.

"Well that escalated quickly..." you say, looking up at Tuck. "What was that all about?" you smile weakly. Tuck turns his head to look at you.

"He wouldn't leave you alone," he responds.

"No, I meant your little 'I'll have you pinned on the floor in under a second' move," you chuckle, and he looks away.

"Oh that. It was easy, he was drunk," he replies. You lift your hand to turn his face so that he's looking at you again.

"You could've gotten into a lot of trouble."

For a moment, he's silent. He then pushes himself slightly off the wall so that he is facing you, leaning on his shoulder. He looks into your eyes with a soft expression.

"I don't mind. Not where you are concerned."

Even with your heels on he's taller than you, and you have to stand on your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling away you look at him for a moment before placing your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, his face in your hair, breathing you in. You love the feeling of being in his arms, like you are safe from the whole world, like nothing exists beyond the two of you.

"You really should be more discreet if you're trying to keep this a secret," you hear Melissa's voice from behind Tuck. You chuckle softly into Tuck's chest before you turn your attention to her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Let me just start by apologizing for not updating for so long. As I said already, my life is really hectic these days, but I hope things will fall back to some kind of new normal soon. Anyways, here is a long chapter for you guys, hope you enjoy! :)**

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You had gone home way before FDR was ready to, which meant that Tuck had to stay with him, but you had anticipated that all along. You woke up the next morning with a bit of a hangover, but as agreed, you and Tuck met up to get Lauren and FDR a wedding gift.

He dons a pair of aviators, a white t-shirt and jeans as you spot him waiting for you in front of the store.

"Hangover?" you ask as he hands you a takeaway cup of coffee. He chuckles and nods, planting a kiss on your cheek.

"You?" he asks into your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"Just a teeny tiny bit," you smile, taking a sip.

The saleswoman hands you Lauren and FDR's list of chosen items, and you and Tuck start making your way through the store.

"A rice cooker? Why would anyone need a rice cooker?" Tuck asks, browsing through the list.

"Because good old boiling water on the stove is just too boring," you reply, snagging the list from his fingers and turning around.

"Oy, I was reading that," he exclaims, an arm wrapping around your waist and the other going for the list. You hold it out so that he can't reach it.

"Hand it over, or I will tickle you," he growls into your ear, causing you to giggle.

"I shall never surrender," you reply, squirming to get free but he is just too strong.

"Okay, you asked for it," his says, his hand going for your side as you swiftly turn around and press your lips on his.

"Oh no you won't... distract... me..." he mumbles onto your lips closing his eyes, your tactics obviously working. When he releases your waist to cup your face, you take off running.

"Oh you cheeky little..." you hear him mumble, laughing as you try to run away from him. He runs faster than you, and he is right on your heels just as you reach the bedding section. He tackles you on one of the display beds in the corner of the store, straddling you from behind.

"Now be a good girl and hand the paper over, and no one gets hurt," he pants into your ear. You squirm under him, not wanting to admit defeat. Suddenly you feel your squirming starting to have unexpected consequences.

"Enjoying this a bit too much, are we?" you ask, tucking the list under your shirt, grinding your bottom against him. He draws in a sharp breath.

"Did you have to... Can't you just play nice?" he pleads, but you're not done with him yet.

"Say please," you command, arching your back and looking at him over your shoulder. He takes a hold of your arms and you can feel him press his forehead between your shoulder blades, muttering something into your back.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that," you say, with a long, smooth movement of your hips.

"Please stop," he breathes into your back. You smile triumphantly as you hand him the list, making sure not to move under him any more than necessary.

"You know you could've just gotten off of me," you point out as he sits down next to you on the bed, holding the paper in his hand. You turn around and sit next to him, and he chuckles.

"Admittedly I could have... but then you wouldn't have given me the list," he smirks, like nothing had happened.

"Did you just trick me?" you ask, your jaw dropping, and suddenly you find yourself pinned under him on the bed.

"You should not play games with me... I'm better at them," he growls into your neck, pinning your hands above you head, his breathing on your skin sending chills up and down your body. "Doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it though," he continues in a completely different tone, winking and getting off of you, heading for the china section before you even realise what just happened.

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After the gruelling task of finding a wedding present you leave the store, your heart sinking when Tuck tells you that he has to go pick up Joe from Katie's. You are standing next to his truck, about to go your separate ways.

"Would you like to come along?" he asks much to your amazement.

"What, to meet Joe? Are you sure?" you ask, suddenly nervous. He smiles and pulls you into his chest, his face in your hair.

"I don't introduce him to people he will never see again, and seeing as I do not intend to let you go..." he trails off, and you look up at him.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," he murmurs, looking deep into your eyes, and you are sure your legs will give in under you.

"I..." you stutter, unable to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence.

"You don't have to say anything, I just... wanted to let you know," he says softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. "So, interested in an afternoon with the Hansen men?" he smiles, and biting your lower lip you smile and nod.

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Looking at Tuck's back as he walks up to the house, you can't help being nervous. You haven't got that much experience hanging out with little kids; your sister has a daughter back in Atlanta, but you haven't seen them in a year, and when you did see them last, the little one was very little indeed, she had just learned to walk. You usually forbid yourself to think about them to avoid missing them so much. Your heart breaks a little every time you think about your family which you so rarely see, so you instead turn your attention to the situation at hand.

Tuck knocks on the door and turns to wink at you, as you decide to step out of the car where you two agreed you'd wait.

He just told you that he's falling in love with you. In love. With you. Your mind is spinning, at the same time feeling a little anxious, like everything is going too fast and you will only get hurt, while at the same time hearing his words in your head make you feel all fluffy and warm inside. You haven't wanted to admit it even to yourself, but you are also falling for him, fast. You smile to yourself, wondering how quickly a person's life can turn upside down.

You watch as the door opens and a young boy with light brown hair jumps into Tuck's arms. You smile at their heart-melting embrace, when you see a woman appear in the door way. This must be Katie, you think to yourself, noticing that she is really pretty, secretly having wished that she wasn't...

Joe retreats back into the house, probably to get his things you think, when you notice Tuck say something to Katie and gesturing in your direction. Katie notices you but doesn't react in any way that you notice. She says something to Tuck, who smiles and responds, making you wish you could hear what they are talking about. Katie smiles too, and saying something she turns her gaze back to you, raising her hand to wave. You smile and wave back. Perhaps this won't be all that bad.

Joe appears at the door again, clutching onto a green backpack. His mother gives him a hug, ruffles his hair and retreats into the house, closing the door behind her, but as Tuck and Joe make their way over to you, you can see that she is watching you through the window as Tuck and Joe reach you.

"This is Emma, she's daddy's friend," Tuck says, as Joe eyes you suspiciously. You kneel on one knee on the ground.

"Hi, Joe. It's really nice to meet you, your dad has told me a lot about you," you say smiling. Joe doesn't respond, just clutches onto his backpack. Tuck chuckles and crouches down as well.

"Now what do we say when we meet new people?" he asks, and Joe sighs.

"Hello," Joe responds, more to his dad than to you.

"Would it be okay with you if I hung out with you and your dad today?" you ask, when Tuck chimes in.

"I told Emma you like football, and as it happens, she told me that she knows a few tricks she could probably teach you if you ask nicely," he says, and you spot a little sparkle in Joe's eyes before he hides it.

"You mean soccer? What kind of tricks?" he asks, his curiosity getting the best of him as his father stands up smiling.

"I'll show you if your dad takes us to a soccer field," you reply. He looks at you from under his eyebrows, still apprehensive.

"I guess you can hang out with us then," Joe says warily. Tuck winks at you again as he helps Joe into the backseat.

Tuck drives the three of you to a field near Katie's house and as you're getting out of the car he goes around the back and gets three soccer balls from the trunk. You realise he'd been planning this all along, and you smile at him as you all make your way towards one of the goals. Tuck sets the balls down side by side and goes over to the goal, as Joe looks up at you suspiciously. Tuck looks at you encouragingly.

"So, why don't you just try and make a goal so that I know not to teach you something you already know," you say, and Joe does as told. To your surprise he's not half bad for a seven-year-old, as he manages to kick the ball in Tuck's direction, who catches it and throws it back to you.

"Wow Joe, that was really good," you smile as you place the ball down in front of him again. "But I do have a little secret I can tell you, if you promise not to tell anyone," you say, crouching down next to him. You can see that he's intrigued.

"You see, if you want the ball to go really, really fast, it helps if you can relax your muscles. The way you do it is that you don't kick it with all the strength you have. You do have to use a lot of strength, but not all of it, you know?" you ask, and Joe nods silently, not sure if he really knows what you are talking about. You stand up and take a step back.

"Have a go, and see if you can keep your kicking leg bent as long as you can, and then really quickly extending it just before the kick," you instruct, and Joe takes a moment to digest all the information given. He has a go, and the ball actually does have a lot more speed, but it goes in the wrong direction, way right of the goal, and Tuck has to run after it to fetch it.

"I bet that was wrong," Joe says, kicking the grass.

"No that was good, it was a lot faster than your first kick. The only little problem is that your foot didn't land on the center of the ball, but a little to the left, which caused the ball to go to the right. You should always watch as your foot hits the ball so you know that it hits the middle bang on if you want it to go straight," you explain, and Joe seems to feel better about his last kick. Tuck throws you the ball, and you again place it down.

"Can you show me one?" Joe asks as you stand up, taking you by surprise.

"Oh, sure. You want a real fast one?" you ask, taking a couple steps back.

"Try to make a goal," Joe replies, when Tuck joins in.

"You'll never get past me," he says, and you smirk.

"Oh, we shall see about that," you reply, taking a second to size the goal up. Then, one step, two steps, three steps, a kick and the ball lands neatly in the upper right corner, without Tuck having even moved from the middle of the goal.

"Wow!" Joe exclaims as he runs to get the ball. Tuck looks at you in amazement.

"You are scary good at this," he states, looking at you wide-eyed. You shrug.

"I almost went pro," you reply, and seeing Tuck's jaw drop you laugh and turn your attention back to Joe.

Turns out Joe is a fast learner, and in no time you no longer have to stand next to him to instruct him, so you go stand next to the goal to catch any balls that he shoots off target.

"You never told me that you are like a soccer goddess," Tuck says as he catches another one of Joe's attempts.

"I did tell you that Lauren and I met in little league, didn't I? She quit when we were... How old were we?... I think we were 12 at the time. I played my whole life until I moved here," you reply. Tuck looks at you, almost getting hit on the head with a ball doing so.

"So why didn't you go pro?" he asks, throwing the ball to Joe.

"That was really good, Joe, just remember that you have to kind of hop the last step before kicking, okay?" you call out to Joe, who yells out "okay" and does as told. You avert your attention back to Tuck.

"Well, I had to make a choice. I've never told you this but the reason I moved to LA was to be with my grandma, who was really sick," you reply.

"Oh. How is she now?" Tuck asks cautiously, kicking a weak kick back to Joe. You don't look him in the eye.

"She died six months ago." The silence from Tuck's end is palpable.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," he says softly, turning to you as Joe sits down to tie his shoelaces.

"Don't be, she lived a long and full life. She was 87 years old when she passed. In the end I think she was just pleased that she'd get to be with grandpa again. And she was in a lot of pain near the end, so it was actually kind of a relief to us all, when it happened. God, it's horrible to say that..." you trail off, a tear slipping down your cheek. Tuck wipes it away, and you try to look everywhere but his face to keep yourself from crying.

"It's not horrible at all. No one wants to see their loved ones in pain," he reassures you. "I'd hold you, but Joe is watching. So I'm mentally holding you," he whispers, and you chuckle.

"Thanks," you say, wiping your eyes and finally looking up at him. As you do this, Joe walks up to the pair of you.

"I'm hungry," he simply states, and Tuck asks if he'd like to go get something to eat.

"Yeah. Can you come too?" he responds, his question aimed at you.

"Oh, of course I can," you reply, smiling at him.

You make your way to Wendy's, Joe's pick. You and Joe get along great, and he is really impressed with a "girl who's better at soccer than his dad". While you're eating it starts to get dark, and Joe is starting to get sleepy, and he falls asleep as soon as Tuck puts his seatbelt on. You then realise that your car is still at the department store's parking lot, and Tuck drives you there. As he pulls up next to your car, he turns to you. With Joe in the picture you decide to go your separate ways for the night, ending the day with a soft kiss at the department store parking lot.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Another update for you lovely readers - my gratitude goes out to all of you who follow, favorite and, you know, read this :) You make my day! The Tommy fic has really been demanding my attention lately, so you'll probably be getting another story sometime soon! This one is already well past halfway, but not quite over yet ;) Enjoy!**

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It's the week of Lauren and FDR's wedding, and you can't wait for it to be over. Every single night you've been either running errands or at Lauren and FDR's place until at least midnight, making the seating chart or wrapping Georgian almonds or something to that effect, and every morning you have been at work by 8.30. You have been too exhausted to even think about Tuck, let alone see him, or anyone else for that matter. By Friday the week is really beginning to take its toll on you, and you know that you still have a rehearsal dinner to sit through that night, before the actual shindig on Saturday.

Leaving work at noon on Friday, you make your way to the beauty parlour where you have agreed to meet up with Lauren. She's treating you to a manipedi as a thank you for all the time and energy you've sacrificed to take care of your maid of honour duties.

As you sit back in your creamy mint coloured chair, the lady is working on your toenails. You are fighting to stay awake, trying your hardest to pay attention to Lauren and your conversation.

"I really am sorry, I didn't know Trish had left so many things to the last minute," she says, looking genuinely ashamed and apologetic. You brush her off.

"Well, everything's done now, right? We're all ready for the big day," you reply, stifling a yawn.

"I think so... so you're picking my parents up from the airport, right?" she asks.

"Mm-hmm," you reply drowsily, your eyes closing slowly before you snap them open.

"And Tuck has taken care of the wedding car I believe... Trish is bringing the flower petals... oh, did I ask if you'll be one of our witnesses?" she asks, turning around in her chair. You nod.

"Yes you did, and I said yes. I will be there," you reply, determined. After this you are going on a holiday, you promise yourself. Or at least locking yourself in your apartment for a week.

"Okay, good. I think everything's all sorted out. Wow, I can't believe we made it!" she exclaims, looking at the woman doing her nails all giddy. You have to stop yourself from sending a murderous glare her way, you have honest to God never been this tired in your life. You love Lauren to death, but once this wedding is over you are really happy she and FDR are going on honeymoon for two weeks, meaning you don't have to see either of them.

Once you've gotten your nails done you say goodbye to Lauren to go home and change for the rehearsal dinner really quickly before heading over to the airport. You're actually happy to meet Lauren's parents again after such a long time, and they always liked you, saying to Lauren what a good influence you were on her. You weren't so sure about it, but then again, everyone doesn't need to know everything.

You drive Lauren's parents to the hotel where the rehearsal dinner and wedding reception will be held, and where they are also staying. It's only thirty minutes until the dinner is supposed to start, so you decide to hang out at the hotel bar while you wait. Drinking might not be the best idea at your current state, sleep deprived and not having eaten properly all week, but you're thinking that dammit you deserve it, as you plop down on a bar stool. You chuck down two glasses of white wine as the time passes, when you feel a hand on your hip and hot breath on your ear.

"You look good enough to eat," Tuck whispers into your ear, and you lean into his chest.

"Hey you," you smile drowsily, feeling the alcohol going to your head. Tuck takes a step back and looks at you, inspecting your face as his mouth turns into an amused grin.

"Bloody nora, are you drunk?" he asks laughing, holding onto your shoulders.

"No, I've only had two glasses," you reply, your eyes not focusing on anything. "You've seen me drink more. There is no way I am drunk. Why does my head hurt so much..." you trail off, leaning on the bar with your head in your hands.

"Right, I think it's time you call it a night," he says, placing his hand gently on your back to get you to hop off of the stool.

"But I still have that horrible dinner to sit through. I am so tired, you have no idea what hoops Lauren has made me jump through this week. I'd really hate that bitch if I didn't love her," you rant, turning on the stool and leaning your hands on Tuck's arms.

"Wow, you look really handsome," you say, looking dreamily at him. "I really want to have sex with you right now," you continue as you try to kiss him, but he pulls back.

"That's it, I'm taking you home," he just replies. As he eases you off the stool and turns the pair of you around to head for the garage, he sees FDR at the doorway. Your eyes close.

"She okay?" you hear him ask Tuck who is trying to keep you upright, but your legs are giving in under you.

"Not really, she was just telling me that she's had a really long week and that she's got a hell of a headache, from what it sounds like I think it's a migraine. I think I better take her home or she won't make it to the wedding," Tuck replies. You hear someone sigh, but you can't bring yourself to open your eyes.

"Lauren is going to flip out. Better get her out of here before she turns up," FDR's voice says, and you feel him appearing on your other side, draping your arm over his shoulder. The two men get you into the elevator, where Tuck says that he can take it from there. He presses the elevator button for the bottom floor, turning his attention to you as the doors close, watching that you don't fall down. You feel the elevator stop and are whisked off your feet, and cracking your eyes you see Tuck carrying you, bridal style, to his car.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," you mumble into his neck, your eyes closing again.

"Don't worry about it, love," he coos into your temple, planting a small kiss there. With no assistance from your part he manages to get you into his car and eventually into his loft, placing you softly on his bed. You have been in and out of sleep since you left the bar, a moment of clarity hitting you as he is looking for the zipper of your dress.

"It's under my left arm," you instruct him, not, however, being able to assist him in the process of getting you out of the dress. He succeeds in stripping you to your panties and getting you into one of his t-shirts. As he places the covers over you, you nuzzle into the pillow.

"Thank you, Tuck. I love you," you murmur, your eyes closed throughout, right before you drift off to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: another chapter, finally! Thank you all for reading and reviewing :)**

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Waking up you feel better than you have in a while. As you open your eyes you realize you are not in your own bed, nor in your own clothes. You glance to your side, seeing Tuck's tattooed chest rising and falling in the rhythm of his breathing as he sleeps next to you. You have no recollection of how you ended up in his bed, or of anything from the previous night for that matter after you arrived at the hotel, which surprises you because even when you're really drunk, you usually don't black out, and now you don't even have a hangover.

Then it hits you: it's Lauren and FDR's wedding day.

The alarm clock on Tuck's bedside table reads 07:46. You had promised to be at Lauren's at nine and the hairdresser coming over would do your hair as well. Scrambling out of bed you find your clothes in a neat pile on a chair near Tuck's bed. Spotting slight movement in the corner of your eye you shift your gaze to notice FDR, fully clothed, sleeping on the couch not thirty feet away from the two of you, on the floor below. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open as you mentally chide Tuck. Of course, FDR can't see the bride on the wedding day, but you're still angry at Tuck; no one is supposed to know about the two of you.

As you zip up your dress, you hear Tuck shift behind you.

"Hey sweetheart, are you feeling better?" he whispers, at which you turn around as you straighten your dress. He rubs his eyes, only managing to keep one cracked open as they adjust to the light. With his bedhead and sleepy eyes you just can't stay mad at him.

"What do you mean? I feel just fine," you reply, making your way over to him. You can't help thinking that he looks endearing, his hair all messed up and his eyes not able to open up fully so soon after waking up, and you sit on the bed next to him. His hand searches out for yours, and he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

"Oh, well yesterday you just... never mind. Why are you off so soon?" he asks, intertwining his fingers with yours. Then you remember FDR and your anger is back.

"I think the real question is what are you doing bringing me and FDR here together?" you almost hiss, gesturing in his general direction.

"Oh that, well I'd already promised he can spend the night here, besides he was so pissed he wouldn't have been able to put two and two together even if we'd made out right in front of him, let alone that you were here asleep, I don't think he even noticed you as he stumbled in and passed out," he explains.

"I came here to sleep before you guys? Why is that?" you ask, tilting your head. Tuck looks at you flabbergasted.

"You don't remember last night, do you?" he whispers, looking you in the eye sceptically.

"Well... no. I don't," you reply, hesitantly continuing, "What happened? Did I do something stupid?"

Tuck chuckles silently. "No, nothing stupid. You were apparently quite tired and slightly malnutritioned, and had had a little bit too much wine so I brought you over here to sleep it off. You might want to apologise to Lauren, though, for leaving the rehearsal dinner so early."

You eye him suspiciously, thinking you see a hint of a smirk play on his lips. Unfortunately you don't have the time to grill him about it, as you are late as it is.

"Okay. Well thanks for watching out for me," you smile, planting a kiss on his lips. "I should go, I have to be at Lauren's in an hour."

Tuck smiles, his hand caressing your back. "I'll see you at the church."

You stand up and grab your shoes, making your way down the stairs as quietly as possible so as not to wake FDR.

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You weren't sure how early you'd left the rehearsal dinner, but you were prepared to be told off as you arrived at Lauren's, which to your surprise you weren't. Lauren only asked if your migraine was better and that you were sure you were well enough to come to the wedding. She was surprisingly calm, seeing how all over the place she'd been throughout the past few weeks.

Trish, you and Lizzie were all at her place, plus Lauren's mom. You all had your hair done by the hairdresser, and had a little champagne and giggles as you were getting ready. You shared stories of Lauren at various stages of her life, each ending in someone crying and Lauren fighting not to ruin her makeup for the umpteenth time. Lauren showered you in thankyous for being such an amazing maid of honor, promising to return the favor if you ever wanted her to. Before you knew it, it was time to leave.

Lauren was escorted into the church using the back door so that the guests, and the groom especially, wouldn't see her. Lauren asked you to go make sure everything was going smoothly, to which you obliged.

The pews were filling up nicely so you made your way outside, only to be greeted by Joe.

"Emma!" he calls out as he runs over to you. You notice a few heads turn, among them Tuck's, who is standing with Melissa. God, he looks stunning in tails, you find yourself thinking, as you wrap Joe into a hug.

"I'm the ringboy," he tells you excitedly as you pull away, showing you a red pillow with two fake rings attached to it. You knew they were fake because you had FDR's real ring and Tuck had Lauren's.

"Wow, that's a really important job. You sure you can handle it?" you ask as Tuck walks over to the pair of you.

"Totally," he replies, and high-fives you as his father crouches down next to him.

"Hey Joe, have you shown grandma your pillow?" Tuck says, and Joe smiles and goes over to FDR's grandmother. Tuck had previously told you how FDR's grandmother treated Joe as her own grandchild, which you found endearing. She greets him enthusiastically, but gives the two of you a suspicious look.

"I think she knows," you whisper, turning to look at Tuck. He is smiling at you.

"You look lovely. I don't think I've ever seen you look more beautiful," he murmurs, causing you to blush. You are wearing a knee length, a-lined, strapless, white lace dress accompanied by a light yellow belt around your waist and light yellow shawl. You know it is breaking the etiquette to wear white to a wedding if you're not the bride, but Lauren had instructed you to wear something preferably white and knee length. On your feet you have yellow three inch heels. Your hair is curled and pinned above the back of your neck in a big bun, the hairdo reminding you of those you've seen in movies about ancient Rome.

You can feel Tuck's eyes boring into your skin, giving you goose bumps.

"You have to stop looking at me like that," you reply smiling, not meeting his eye.

"Why?" he asks innocently, taking a step closer. His fingers graze your palm, that little touch enough to send chills down your spine.

"Because if you don't I'm going to jump on you and then _everyone_ will know," you whisper, meeting his eye at last. You have the strongest urge to kiss him, when –

"I think we should go in now," you hear FDR's grandmother say, and turning your gaze to her you see her smiling at the pair of you. People are starting to make their way up the steps into the church. She locks arms with you.

"Come, walk with me dear," she says as she leads you towards the church doors, giving you no choice but to go with her.

"It's a really nice day for a wedding," you say, attempting small talk.

"It certainly is," she responds, looking at you with a knowing smile. You try to ignore it as the two of you step into the church and you walk her over to her place in the second row.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go see that Lauren is ready," you smile, as she reaches out for a hug.

"Sure, sure," she replies as you lean into the hug.

"Welcome to the family, dear," she whispers, and as you lean back, shocked, she pinches her thumb and index finger together and mimes a zipper motion to her lips, winking. As you leave her and make your way back towards the entrance, you meet Tuck on the way.

"Oh yeah, she knows," you simply state as you walk past him.


	14. Chapter 14

The ceremony is lovely. Everywhere there are calla lilies and red ribbons, even FDR's tie is bright red. You and Lizzie stand on the bride's side of the aisle, Tuck and Sean on the groom's opposite you, the minister and FDR in the middle. Just before the doors open to let Lauren in, you see Tuck giving FDR final words of encouragement. Then the bride appears, and as FDR turns around you think you can see a tear roll down his cheek as he smiles at Lauren, approaching in her Vera Wang.

You always cry at weddings, you can't help it, and this time is no exception. Tapping your face with a handkerchief as Lauren and FDR give each other their vows, you notice Tuck looking at you. There is a smile on his lips and a tenderness in his eyes that you've only seen there once before; after you had gone shopping for a wedding present for the bride and groom between the two of you now: when he told you he was falling in love with you. A warm, tingly feeling forms in your chest, spreading to your shoulders, arms, all the way to your fingertips and down to your toes. Looking into Tuck's eyes you realize why – you are in love with the British man standing opposite you.

"May I have the rings, please?" you hear the minister say, and waking from your thoughts you step forwards to place the ring in his hand while Tuck does the same. As Tuck steps back in his place he winks at you, and you smile. Stepping back into your place next to Lizzie you notice her looking back and forth between you and Tuck. You apparently can't keep a secret from anyone anymore.

"You are now pronounced husband and wife," the minister states, continuing, "you may kiss."

"Finally," FDR huffs, and dipping Lauren he plants a big one on her lips. Everybody cheers and you laugh, you couldn't be happier for them. The newlyweds lock arms and make their way down the aisle towards the door, and Tuck offers you his arm smiling.

"Shall we?" he asks, and you lock arms with him.

"We shall," you reply. As you walk down the aisle in Lauren and FDR's footsteps, you notice Melissa taking a picture of the two of you, and FDR's grandmother smiling as you pass her.

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"Everyone, could I have your attention, please?" you ask into the microphone. It is time for you maid of honor speech. You are seated at a long table next to FDR with Lauren's father on your other side. In front of you there is the dance floor, around which the round tables for guests are scattered. Every table dons a centerpiece of calla lilies and red roses, surrounded by candles. The dinner has been served and everyone is in a good mood, helped by the fact that the champagne has flown freely the whole night.

"As some of you know, Lauren and I have known each other since we were five years old. And in those, well, I won't say how many years, but years nonetheless, I have come to know her rather well. I could tell you many stories about her. For example, I know what kind of man she wanted to marry when she was eight years old," you state, pointedly looking at Lauren, who is hiding her smile with her hands.

"It was a rainy day. After school we were alone at her house, and we got bored because we couldn't go outside. Lauren then had an idea. She went into her mother's closet, took out her wedding dress and we put it on her. Sorry Margaret, we didn't dare tell you sooner," you say to Lauren's mother sitting next to Tuck near the other end of the table, who looks shocked at first but soon joins in to the laughing audience. "She stood in front of the mirror – she actually stood on a chair so she'd look all grown up – and said "I will not get married until I find a prince"," you recall, seeing smiles in the audience.

"Then later at sixteen, with her taste more refined, she knew exactly what kind of man she wanted to marry and whose children she wanted to have. Now I won't tell you the specifics, but she wanted to marry a short, skinny and blonde punk rocker, going by the name of Billie Joe Armstrong," you say, eliciting laughter in the audience.

"Now FDR, I see you are not blonde, short or skinny, not even a punk rocker, and you're certainly not Billie Joe Armstrong," you state smiling, turning your attention to FDR, who is pretending to be heartbroken.

"So you must be a prince to our dear Lauren, because she chose to marry you," you smile, and FDR plants a kiss on Lauren's temple. You grab your champagne flute from the table and turn back to the audience.

"So if you would all join me in a toast..." you trail off, raising your glass. "To Lauren and her prince!"

The crowd joins in, and FDR stands up to hug you and Lauren holds out her hand to squeeze yours. As the applause die down, FDR grabs the microphone.

"And now we get to hear from the best man," he states, and hands the microphone over to Tuck, sitting on the other side of Lauren. Tuck, standing up, clears his throat.

"As many of you know, FDR has a... how should I put it... _colourful_ past when it comes to women," eliciting a few whistles from the audience.

"I hope you're going somewhere with this," a mortified FDR chimes in. Tuck chuckles.

"I am, hold on, mate. Wait, what was your record again? Or do you not want to share with the group?" Tuck asks, eliciting a few whistles from the audience and a shocked expression from Lauren. "I kid, I kid… Anyway, when he first met Lauren at the video store, where he usually got lucky every single time, he was really taken aback when she didn't just fall at his feet," Tuck says, making the audience laugh and FDR hide his face.

"This is what I think enabled you to tie him down, Lauren. You are no ordinary bird. You don't take his crap, instead you call him on it, and with you I think he is a better man than he was before he met you," Tuck states, squeezing Lauren's shoulder.

"And I cannot think of a better partner for my best friend to share the rest of his life with. Please raise your glasses for the newlyweds," Tuck finishes, and toasts the happy couple.

Once the speeches are done, Tuck walks over to you. He stops behind your chair, leaning on his elbows on your chair's back support.

"You know we have one more task as maid of honor and best man," he says to you, as you lean back and sip at your champagne.

"Yeah? What's that now?" you ask, turning to look at him. He is smirking.

"Preparing the bridal suite," he replies, and you feel the corners of your mouth turning up.

"Let's do it," you state, getting up from your chair. Tuck places a hand at the small of your back, guiding you towards the reception where he's left all the necessities. The receptionist hands everything over and gives you the key card.

"It's the top floor," she instructs. Thanking her you make your way to the elevator. As you step in you are both smirking at each other.

"You do realize we're missing the cake," you smile as the doors close, eyeing the champagne and roses sticking out of the basket Tuck is carrying.

"Let's hope they save us some," he replies, turning so he's leaning on the wall opposite you. His eyes feel like they are burning a hole right through you.

"You're doing it again," you say, turning your head away from him, not able to pry the smile off your face.

He smirks, stepping closer. "You know how difficult it was for me to stand opposite you in front of 150 guests, a minister and God himself and not just walk over and kiss you?" he murmurs, his eyes on yours, his face inches from yours, just as the elevator doors slide open.

"Saved by the bell," he chuckles, and you can't help but smile with him.

You let the two of you into the bridal suite, and you are slightly taken aback by how gorgeous it is. Everything is cream colored and the suite is the biggest hotel room you have ever seen. The windows look over the city, and the bed is huge.

"Okay, you do the bedroom, I'll scatter some rose petals everywhere and then write something dirty on the bathroom mirror," you instruct Tuck, and he replies with a smile before stepping away into the direction of the bedroom.

You decorate the living area and bathroom with red rose petals and start looking for a lipstick to write on the mirror with. Finding one you are forced to bend over the sink a little to reach the mirror, when you see Tuck in the reflection, looking at you.

"You all done?" you ask, your hand stopping before the lipstick hits the mirror. He doesn't say anything, but walks over to you as you turn around to face him. His eyes are heavy as he stares down at you. You place the lipstick on the counter next to the sink, raising your hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

"Tuck?" you ask.

He has his hands in his pockets, his eyes darker than you remembered.

"You look really lovely," he finally speaks. He lifts his both hands to cup your face looking deep into your eyes, before his gaze goes to your lips as you part them slightly. He leans in, his lips soft on yours as you close your eyes and your hands go to his waist. He softly licks your lips and you open your mouth more to grant him entrance, intertwining your tongue with his. His hands move from the sides of your face to your waist, pulling you into him while yours grab onto his shirt at his sides, before moving to discard his jacket. He cups the backs of your thighs and props you up on the sink in front of him, hiking your dress up your thighs in the process.

"Here?" you breathe onto his lips between kisses.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his breathing uneven, looking deep into your eyes.

"Don't you dare," you say, claiming his lips with yours again.

He pushes your legs open to stand between them, his mouth leaving yours to attend to your neck, one hand going into your hair. As his name escapes your lips he cups your bottom with his other hand to pull you nearer him and you can feel his erection press against your core, a growl rumbling in his chest.

His finger trails the band of your underwear as his mouth is busy working on your neck, leaving little bites and kisses all over.

"Take them off," you breathe, raising your hips off the sink to help him and he slides them off without his mouth leaving your neck, your shoes falling in the process. As soon as you hear the shoes hit the bathroom floor you can feel his fingers travelling up and down your slit, the sensation making your breathing hitch as you arch your back.

"God you're wet," he murmurs, his mouth meeting yours as his finger finds your hard little pearl, rubbing it in a circular motion. Your hands grasp the back of his neck as his mouth on yours swallows every moan you make, heat starting to pool in your lower stomach. You feel him replace his index finger with his thumb, continuing with a little more pressure as he puts one finger inside of you, pumping in and out. He leans back slightly, looking at you intently as your head falls back and hits the mirror, his name forming on your lips again as he inserts another finger.

Your hands move down his chest to work on his belt, your fingers having trouble as his work their magic on you. Finally succeeding you push his pants down all together, taking his length into your hand, making him gasp in turn. His forehead meets yours as he grunts with every move you make, starting to push into your palm.

"I think we've waited long enough," he mutters. He pulls his hand away and grabs the backs of your knees to pull you to the edge of the sink. Your hand still on his erection you guide him into your entrance and looking into your eyes he moves into you, slowly, making your mouth fall open as he surprisingly and agonizingly patiently fills you. He starts at a slow pace, his hands on your neck and one on your hip, pushing you into him. Your bodies are so close to one another you think you can feel his pulse between two of you.

"Oh Tuck," you breathe into his ear as his teeth nip at your neck. His other hand snakes between the two of you, his finger again finding that special spot and you look down, seeing where your bodies meet and his hand touches you. Your body aches for him, _more _of him.

Like he was able to read your mind he slightly picks up his pace, removing his hand from between you to hold on to your hips with both hands. His thrusts are becoming so forceful you have to grip onto the sink to steady yourself. Your sweaty foreheads pressed together, breathing in each others' air you feel it building in the pit of your stomach, all the sensations making you dizzy, you're so close. Your hand grabs a hold of the back of his neck and your crash your lips on his as you come, your back arching you into him and your head falling back, a sound you didn't know you could make coming from your mouth. As you convulse around him, your legs tightening on his sides, your muscles on his shaft, he thrusts in a couple times more before finishing inside you with a deep grunt, his hands sure to leave a mark on your hips. Trying to catch your breath you hold him close to you as the aftershocks shake your bodies, and you whimper as he pulls out. He cups your face and plants a kiss on your lips, a long, lingering one.

"I love you, Tuck," you say panting, placing your hand on his chest. He smiles.

"I know, sweetheart. You told me last night," he murmurs, and seeing your shocked impression he presses his lips on yours again, smiling.

"I love you too."

You are about to reprimand him for not telling you about it sooner, when you hear voices.

"Oh how lovely, rose petals and everything... Are those strawberries?" you hear Lauren's voice from the living area, making your fingers dig into Tuck's shoulders. You immediately jump down from the sink, your heartbeat throbbing in your ears as Tuck pulls his pants swiftly up, and you grab your shoes from the floor, making your way to the newlyweds to distract them.

"Oh you're here already, did you get tired of your party already?" you smile, appearing in front of Lauren and FDR. Then you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across the room, and your expression matches that of Lauren's. Your hair is in disarray, the top of your bra is peeking out of your dress and your whole neck and décolleté area is red.

"Whatcha been doin'?" FDR asks smirking, when Tuck appears at your side.

"You lovebirds calling it a night?" he chimes in with his shirt out of his pants. Lauren's face goes from shocked to angry in a flash.

"You had sex in our bridal suite?!" she exclaims. Tuck scratches the back of his head.

"Huh, looks like they caught us. Might as well give you these then," he says smiling, handing you your thong. Your face must flush fifteen shades of red as you grab them, hiding them behind your back.

"You had SEX in our BRIDAL SUITE?" Lauren repeats, her hands balling into fists as FDR laughs.

"Well we didn't do it on the bed, if that helps any," you point out shrugging, grabbing Tuck's hand and making your way quickly towards the door.

"Hey Tuck Tuck," you hear FDR's voice just as you reach the door.

"Way to go, man," FDR laughs and tries to high-five Tuck, at which point you think you can see smoke coming out of Lauren's ears, making you retreat quickly to the hallway. The pair of you run laughing all the way to the elevator.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: thanks for the reviews, they mean so much to me, you have no idea! Okay so this one's a little short, but I might have another update for you guys today or tomorrow. We're getting closer to the end... Hope you enjoy! :)**

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Consciousness slowly drifts into your head as you wake up tangled in sheets, opening your eyes slowly to adjust to the clear morning light to see you are at Tuck's loft. Looking down you realize you are completely naked, Tuck snoring softly behind you. As you try to turn around to face him, you feel the slight soreness between your legs hindering your movements, causing flashbacks to flicker into your brain; the way you'd ripped his shirt off before he even closed the door, how he'd pressed you against the wall, pinning your hands above your head, the way he looked at you as you screamed his name when you came...

"Good morning, love," you hear him murmur, pulling you from your reverie. He looks at you with his sleepy eyes, holding his arms out for you to scoot near him.

"Morning," you smile, ignoring the soreness and nuzzling into his chest.

"Last night was... You were…" he trails off, drawing lazy circles on your arm.

"I hope those sentences end well," you laugh, lifting your head and resting your chin on his chest.

"They end really, really well," he smiles and kisses you. He leans his head back on the pillow, and you avert your eyes to his tattoos, running your fingers along them.

"So I guess we just kind of outed ourselves last night," you smile. Tuck raises his other arm to rest his head on it, looking at you intently.

"How do you feel about that?" he asks, studying your face, brushing strands of hair away from your eyes. You smile.

"Actually, I don't think I've ever been this happy," you reply softly, to which Tuck smiles. "Can we stay in bed all day?" you continue smirking as Tuck flips you over so that you're on your back with him half on top of you, his arms around you.

"You say that as if I was giving you a choice..." he murmurs as you giggle, and leans down to kiss you.

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"You're not coming in?" you ask as you stand on your doorstep after yet another evening spent with Tuck. A week has passed since the wedding, and you've spent every possible moment together. Tonight he took you to see a movie and to dinner, and you were about to offer him dessert but all through the night he's had a hard time concentrating, something being slightly off about him like there's something really bothering him.

"Hey, everything okay?" you ask for the fourteenth time that evening as he doesn't respond, cupping his face with your hand.

"Pardon? Yes, of course," he smiles, continuing, "I really wish I could come in, but I have some work related things I need to go through for tomorrow," he says apologetically, his lips brushing yours.

"That's a shame, I may have had a surprise for you..." you trail off, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his. A smirk spreads across his face as his arms find their way around your waist and he opens his mouth to respond, when something behind you catches his attention, his eyes narrowing. Surprised you lean your head back a little, turning it to follow his gaze when his hand snaps up, turning your head back towards him as he presses his lips on yours, not in a soft way. The kiss feels passionate with a hint of something else, something you can't quite name.

"Are you sure you're alright? You've been acting weird all night," you say as you pull away, examining his face.

"Everything's fine, don't worry darling," he replies, but you hear from his voice that his mind is somewhere else.

"Love, I have to go now, but... whatever happens please remember that I love you no matter what, okay?" he speaks rapidly and very quietly, pressing his lips on yours once more.

"Okay, you're scaring me, what is going on?" you ask, pulling away from him. He rubs his jaw with his hand.

"I would never do anything to purposely hurt you, you know that, right?" he asks in the same tone, low and quiet, making you more and more puzzled.

"What's wrong?" you ask again, trying to grab his hand in yours, but he beats you to it.

"Answer me, love. Answer me that you know that I love you and that I would never do anything to hurt you," he speaks softly but urgently, squeezing your hand in his.

"Yes, of course I know that, but Tuck, you're really freaking me out right now," you respond, as Tuck pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you tightly, making it hard for you to breathe, like he's holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he whispers in your hair. You try to pull away, but he's not ready yet.

"It's fine, just calm down and tell me what's wrong," you say softly into his neck, and he finally pulls away.

"No, I'm _sorry_. I love you," he says, kissing your forehead quickly before turning and taking the stairs two at a time down to his car. You stand at your doorstep, wondering what the hell just happened. As he reaches his car he turns to take one more look at you before stepping in and driving off, tires screeching.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I know I promised this sooner, apologies for the delay! Again, a short one, but it should give you some feels to make up for the lack of length ;) Only two more chapters to go after this one!  
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You had trouble sleeping that night, unable to get the shocked expression on his face out of your head. You tried to call his cell twice, getting his answering machine both times. You figured he'd call you with an explanation as soon as he could, but as the sun began the set for the fifth time since he left you on your doorstep and he still hadn't contacted you, you were starting to really wonder what was going on. He had seemed genuinely worried, and you didn't know why: there was no clear reason for it, and he had repeatedly ignored your questions about it.

You had since tried to go about your daily routine as before, but Tuck had become such an important part of your life that you found you had trouble focusing on anything when you hadn't heard from him in days. _Why hasn't he called?_ ran through your head every five minutes as you checked your phone to see you had reception.

It is Saturday morning, almost a week later, when your phone finally rings. You almost choke on your iced tea as you scramble up from your little nest on the couch to get to your phone in the bedroom.

"Tuck?!" you say into the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID. Normally you would think yourself pathetic, Tuck being the one thing on your mind as you wake up and the one thing on your mind as you go to sleep, but not hearing from him was driving you insane.

"No, honey, it's Lauren," you hear her quiet voice. Her tone makes you even more ashamed.

"Oh hey, Lauren, sorry about that, I'm just expecting a call from him. So what's up, how was the honeymoon? I thought you guys were staying longer," you speak, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

"Honey, you might wanna sit down for this," Lauren continues in her quiet tone, causing your brows to furrow.

"What's wrong?" you ask, a question all too familiar to you after the past week. Lauren sighs.

"Look, I don't know how to say this so I'm just going to say it, okay? Remember that we are all here for you, and that we love you. Sweetie… Tuck... is dead."

The phone falls from your hand, making a clonking sound as it hits the floor. Your knees give in and you can hear Lauren's voice distantly as you fall to the floor, not able to make out what she is saying. The world feels like in slow motion, the ticking of your alarm clock slowing down and Lauren's voice becoming warped before the call disconnects.

What did she just say to you? Nothing makes sense. Dead? He can't be dead. You are going to move in with him and marry him and have a dog and a mortgage and lots of babies with your eyes and his lips. Dead?

And then the tears come.

For a week you didn't leave your apartment. Lauren took care of everything for you, explained your situation at work, made sure you ate something every once in a while and in general was there for you as you cried. You refused to change out of his t-shirt, his smell around you comforting you. In your less frantic moments you would ask her to tell you about their honeymoon, to give you something else to think about, but you weren't fooling even yourself; there was no way you could think about anything else. Lauren told you that Tuck had been at work when he had gotten into a car accident. To your relief he had not suffered; he'd died on impact.

After that week of solitude you slowly started to return to your routine, starting with going back to work and by the third week moving on to spending time outside your apartment, gradually being able to be around people and their sympathetic looks when they asked how you were.

At times you thought you were being ridiculous: you had only known Tuck for less than two months. Then you felt a stinging pain in your heart; you had been so in love with him, and he with you.

Lauren told you the funeral would be held in England. You had never met Tuck's family, so you thought it better not to meet them now: it would just be too painful.

Four weeks into your new reality, that day had been a good one; you had managed a whole day without bursting into tears, without depressing everyone with your pessimistic remarks on everything.

Coming home from work you let yourself into your apartment, throwing your mail to the huge pile of unopened letters, adverts and bills, knocking the whole thing over. With a sigh you kick your shoes off, sitting down on the floor next to the scattered envelopes, starting to go through them.

Ignoring the bills you find an envelope with handwriting on it that you recognize to be Melissa's, your curiosity getting the best of you. The stamp informs you that it was mailed on the Friday after the wedding, making you wonder why Melissa hasn't said anything about it this long, as you carefully open it. Your heart stops as you pull out the photograph. It could just as easily be about a bride and a groom; you in your white lace dress, Tuck in suit and tails, you both smiling as you look at the camera and Tuck looks at you. Tears form in your eyes, and you have no idea how long you sit there, looking at the photo of what you so badly wanted, what you thought you had, but what will never be.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Wow, the last chapter stirred up some feelings! Thanks again everyone for reading and reviewing, I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for you guys!**

Also for those interested: I think I'll soon be publishing the first chapter of the Tommy Conlon fic I have mentioned earlier. Shameless advertising, haha.

**Anywho, here you have the second to last chapter for Sometimes falling is the best part :)**

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Some say it takes the same amount of time you were with someone to get over them. Almost two months have passed since Lauren called you with the news of Tuck's death, and you weren't exactly sure you could attest to that saying. You had slowly moved on though: you didn't sleep in Tuck's shirt anymore, it had long since lost his scent, and you actually went days without crying. Joan had offered to fix you up with someone, but for that you were simply not ready.

Summer had turned into fall and Christmas season was closing in, meaning special preparations at the store. You had come in early that day to plan the Christmas offers, while it was up to Joan to get the store area ready for another day before opening.

Your office door is open as you go through the store's Christmas offers for previous years, when you hear someone knocking on the store door. You ignore it, figuring the person knocking will sooner or later notice your opening hours written on the door they are knocking on.

The knocking happens again, making you sigh.

"Joan, would you mind telling whoever is knocking that we don't open for another hour?" you call out. No response.

"Joan?" you call again, hearing only silence.

"Damn you smokers and your cigarette breaks..." you mutter under your breath as you get up and make your way to the door. After unlocking it you yank it open, trying to place a friendly smile on your face.

"I'm sorry but we're not..." you start, unable to finish at the sight of the familiar face in front of you.

"No…" you manage to get out before everything goes black.

"I think she's coming around," you hear Joan's voice, your head spinning as you slowly open your eyes to see the ceiling of your office, and Joan's head hovering over you.

"No, don't try to sit up, you passed out, just take it easy. Drink some of this," Joan says softly, holding out a bottle of water in front of you. As you sip on it, your eyes focus on the figure behind Joan, leaning on the edge of your desk. You almost choke on the water as you scramble into a sitting position, balling yourself into the corner of the couch.

"No, you can't be here," you hear your voice whisper, as Joan tries to calm you by stroking your arm.

"Joan, do you see him? Right there?" you ask, turning your wide eyes to Joan and then back to him, thinking you are losing your mind.

"Yes, I see him," Joan says softly, taking a hold of your hand.

"Joan, could you excuse us for a moment?" he finally speaks, the sound of his voice freaking you out even more. Joan turns to look at you.

"I'll be right outside, call me if you need me," she says, squeezing your arm lightly before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Pinching your eyes shut you will yourself to wake up.

"You're not dreaming, sweetheart."

"No, you can't be here, you died," you respond, not opening your eyes, a couple of tears slipping past your lids.

"I'm right here, love. Look at me," his voice says, and you hear him take a step closer.

"STOP IT, TUCK," you hear your voice exclaim as you open your eyes and stand up rapidly, your head spinning with the sudden movement. He moves to steady you, but you send him a glare so cold he withdraws his arms.

"How dare you?" you whisper, and his eyes widen.

"Excuse me?" Tuck asks, not sure he heard you correctly.

"How dare you? How dare you just turn up like this? I've spent the last two months crying for you, mourning you, getting over you!" your voice becoming nothing short of screaming at the end.

"Can I explain?" he quietly asks, shame and apology written all over his face.

"No, no you cannot explain. You died, Tuck. You made me let you go," you respond, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I did it to protect you," he pleads, tears forming in his eyes as well. You snort.

"To _protect_ _me_?" you ask in disbelief. You want to laugh in his face.

"I'm... not really a travel agent," he says softly. "I'm a federal agent, I work for the CIA."

"You're a what now?!" you exclaim as he quickly glances towards the door, on the other side of which Joan is undoubtedly listening. You see him consider whether or not this is the proper place to discuss this matter, but noticing your moment of silence he decides to take advantage of it.

"That night, when I saw you last, I noticed we were being followed. When we stood at your door, there was a car parked not far away, with men in it watching us. They'd been following me since our, uh, mine and FDR's, last assignment. That would've been no problem for me, but as they were now following you as well I knew if I didn't do anything they'd use you to get to me. So I had to figure out a way to get them to leave you alone," he speaks softly, his eyes reddened by the tears. Somewhere along his speech you've sat down on the couch, unable to say anything. He takes a hesitant step towards you, then another, and sits down next to you.

"So you faked your death," you whisper, and Tuck nods.

"Please believe me, love. I wouldn't have done it if I thought there was any other way," he whispers, his hand hesitantly reaching out to yours in your lap. When you don't stop him, he raises his other hand to cup your face, wiping your cheek with his thumb. The crying had already seized, but his touch brings tears to your eyes again.

"Don't..." you whisper, turning your head away but his hand turns it back and he presses his lips on yours.

"Please stop," you mumble onto his lips, tears falling from your eyes but your body has a mind of its own, your hand finding his shoulder as he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck. God, how you've missed him. Then a moment of clarity hits.

"DON'T," you exclaim as you push him away, making yourself stand up and walk over to the other side of your desk so that there's something between you.

"It's not that easy," you whisper, as Tuck leans his elbows on his knees.

"I know," he replies just as quietly.

"No, you can't possibly know," you say, anger rising inside you again, when Tuck stands up and walks over to the other side of your desk.

"Yes, I bloody well do. Do you think I didn't miss you? You think I didn't loathe myself every day for making you go through this?" he growls, locking eyes with you, punching his fist on your table.

"At least you knew what was going on!" you yell in his face. "I had to accept that you were dead. And here you are now, after I've finally gotten over you, telling me that in addition to your death being a lie, you've been lying to me from the beginning, that you're not who I thought you were at all," you rant as his eye snap up at yours.

"You got over me?" he asks quietly, his hands loosening from fists.

"I just accused you for lying to me all along and that's what you hear?" you ask.

"Answer me. Did you get over me?" he asks again, walking around the table to you. He stops right in front of you, but doesn't touch you. You feel your head starting to spin again, a headache starting to throb at your temples.

"I can't... I... This is all happening too fast..." you mumble, your head falling. With his index finger under your chin he raises it back up to look at him.

"If you tell me to leave you alone, I will. But if there is the slightest possibility that you might even consider forgiving me, I will not give up on you, on us," he speaks softly, his finger still under your chin.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I love you," he whispers, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"I don't know, Tuck," you reply, shaking your head, the motion making the throbbing worse.

"Emma..." he pleads softly, as you push him away.

"I think it's best if you leave," you whisper, your hand on his chest. As your eyes come up to find his, the look he gives you breaks your heart, the one you'd worked so hard to glue back together. He doesn't say a word, just reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out an envelope and places it on your desk before he turns and walks out.


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